


Invisible Bruises

by HPfanatic12



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Drama, Gen, No Weasley Bashing, Percy Weasley-centric, Weasley Family-centric (Harry Potter), im just trying to be realistic about their reactions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26288980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPfanatic12/pseuds/HPfanatic12
Summary: Set during the summer before HBPPercy Weasley is eager to move on with his life and become the extraordinary person he knows he's meant to be. Too bad he didn't know that sometimes our deepest desires are the most dangerous.Or an alternate take on Percy's betrayal
Relationships: Harry Potter & Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Percy Weasley, Percy Weasley & Weasley Family
Comments: 28
Kudos: 144





	1. Chapter 1

The clock was ticking away on the wall. 

Every so often, when he found himself losing a bit of interest in his paperwork, he would lift up his head to glance around the tiny office he’d been given for his newly acquired position. It was hardly impressive, hardly much of what he’d envisioned when he was a schoolboy; but he was there, nonetheless and figured ( _ hoped _ ) that he would be given the chance to prove himself worthy of more once everything would begin to settle down. 

He could prove to Minister Fudge that he was quite capable of handling these mundane tasks he was being assigned and that he could take on on more-perhaps leading up to the day when the Minister would believe him to be a qualified candidate for the minister position once it was time for Fudge to retire. 

Being the minister was something he’d idealized ever since he became a prefect. He liked having order and structure; he liked the thought of becoming more, becoming further along than his own father was. 

It left a bitter taste in his mouth, to think of his father, it did. His lip curled; his father didn’t have that same desire as his son to better himself. He was perfectly content with staying in the same position for the rest of his life, never trying to climb the work ladder or think of putting his family first. 

_ That  _ ticked him off more as he became older and started to understand. It was utterly irresponsible and selfish for his father to continue working the same lowly, poorly paying job while he had seven children to care for! All those years of hand-me-down clothes and materials, all those years of his mum fretting over how they were going to pay for things;  _ all those years  _ of hearing snide remarks about his school uniform had a couple patches and seemed a bit small on him. He hadn’t paid much mind to those people before, before he was a prefect and suddenly thrust into a circumstance where eyes were on him and those eyes were noticing things that notably distinguished him from other pure-bloods. 

His face would light up with a blush; he would try to disregard what the others said because it simply wasn’t worth it. Malfoy had certainly a grand time giving his unsolicited opinion and Percy had heard the same remarks coming from Malfoy’s father during the times when Percy and his family had run into them when they were out and about in Diagon Alley. More than one occasion Malfoy’s father had outright said they were an embarrassment to pure-blood’s everywhere. 

Percy had always been instructed to never listen to what the Malfoy’s or anyone other dark family said. They were wrong, he’d been told countless times and for a long while, he believed them. It wasn’t so much that he’d adapted their prejudiced attitudes, so much as it was that by working alongside Minister Fudge and seeing things from an entirely different perspective, it brought to light just how different his family was in comparison to other wizarding families. 

And he  _ hated  _ it. 

He was the odd one out in his own family. He wasn’t anything like his siblings. He didn’t have the same charm that Bill had or the athleticism that Charlie had; he wasn’t as creative as the twins and he wasn’t as brave as Ron. Ginny, it seemed, had a combination of skills that she’d inherited from everyone. Everyone but him. 

It hadn’t bothered him before. He’d just brushed it off, more so out of habit because what other choice did he have? Their cheeky comments didn’t go unheard of nor did his parents’ blatant favoritism. It didn’t matter how mature he tried to approach the topic or if he managed to get his parents alone (as seldom as it was). 

They didn’t  _ care _ . 

And it was killing him on the inside. 

Or, it  _ had _ . 

He’d grown used to it, used to being told _it_ _was only a joke_ and _there’s no need to get so worked up_ _over nothing._

_ Over nothing.  _ Percy wanted to scream. He wanted to grab them by the shoulders and shake them until they understood. It certainly wasn’t  _ nothing _ . He wasn’t getting so worked up over  _ nothing.  _

What made it worse was knowing that his mother was only saying those words to him. She would never have uttered that if it was Ron or Ginny that was upset over something that the twins had done to them. She would have scolded the twins thoroughly, though never really pulling through with any punishment and they knew that. That’s why they were able to keep going on without fear of the possible consequences. 

Still, she never would have made Ron or Ginny feel so  _ stupid _ . She never would have been so condescending. Had it been them, no one else would have given them a side-eye, an eye roll at their supposed dramatics or muttering about what a prat they were being. 

It was only  _ him.  _

_ Only him.  _

_ Him.  _

Percy let out a ragged sigh. 

Sometimes, he loathed being a Weasley. 

~~ 

The clock was still ticking. 

If he froze, if he made sure it was totally silent within the room, he would be able to hear the ticking noise. 

He glanced over at the mound of paperwork that sat neatly on the edge of his desk, that seemed to have magically grown since the last time he took a gander. At any rate, it was going to take him most of the evening to finish it if he was going to meet Minister Fudge’s deadline. It was to be done promptly by the next morning and not a moment later. 

He rubbed at his bleary eyes until there were spots that floated in his vision and it stung with a brief pain. 

He knew he ought to start packing up for the day, to leave right now so he would get home in time for dinner. His mum would have his bum if he came home late  _ again _ . He’d been doing that a lot lately,  getting so caught up in work that by the time he had a peek at the clock, it was nearly time for his parents to be going off to bed themselves. They wouldn’t, though. Not until they knew all their children were where they were supposed to be. More than once, Percy had to hastily excuse himself from a meeting or rush out of the office, promising that he would get whatever needed to be done sooner or later. It was all to avoid an argument with his mother or have her threaten to write a strongly worded letter to Minister Fudge over all of the nonsense, as she referred to it. 

It was thoroughly embarrassing. Percy’s cheeks had reddened from fury the first time those words came flowing out of her mouth. He’d been nineteen years old and she still insisted on treating him like some imprudent child. As if he was incapable of making his own decision. 

_ Embarrassing and infuriating.  _ She tried to run his life as she saw fit, expecting full cooperation from him, acting  _ shocked  _ and  _ angry  _ when he would push back. She assumed that she knew what was best for him, even now. 

Yet at the same time, Percy didn’t feel like his mother knew him at all. His parents, more often than not, made him feel like some outsider that was graciously allowed to stay in their home. 

_ Because they don’t know you _ ,  a voice in his mind would whisper.  _ They don’t even like you _ .  _ They wish you were like the others.  _

It came out of nowhere, that thought did. But it made sense, far too much to remain comfortable. It caused Percy to reevaluate things, to look at the bigger picture. He’d come to realize that his family  _ didn’t  _ really know him, didn’t really understand him and often regarded him as if he was someone else besides their own son and brother. 

When was the last time his parents hadn’t exchanged that knowing, hesitant smile after he said something? When was the last time one of his siblings hadn’t rolled their eyes after he said something or said something passive-aggressive? When was the last time someone hadn’t  _ forgotten  _ to tell him that they were going out or that a meal was ready? When was the last time someone hadn’t invited him to join in on a game of quidditch or  _ anything _ because they’d figured  _ he wasn’t interested _ ?

_ When?  _

He felt a bubble of irrational anger rise up to the surface, just itching to erupt. It had come to the point that the feeling was all too familiar; that by merely thinking about his family, it brought up those hostile feelings. It came to where he didn’t even wish to be around their presence. 

It was just too much. Too much negativity that had been brewing for so long, for so long that he had to keep to himself because he  _ knew  _ someone would find a way to ridicule or scold him for it. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sooth an incoming migraine that could’ve either been from his lack of proper eating, dehydration, his irritation that seemed to be spiking or a combination of all three. He leaned with his elbows pressed on the desk, burying his face in his hands. He had to calm down, had to brush those thoughts away. He had to be professional, especially in the midst of what was going on right now. 

Minister Fudge was increasingly coming to the ministry with a foul mood, which was worsened with the situation regarding Potter and Dumbledore. He’d gotten ill-tempered, quick to snap and had fired a handful of workers in the last week or so. Percy did his best to tip-toe around the man, anxiously checking over his work two or three times for any mistakes. He didn’t want to give Minister Fudge any reason to sack him or mention to any other potential employees that he was a terrible worker. 

(He shuddered at the thought). 

Potter and Dumbledore were unwavering in their absurd claims that You-Know-Who was back. It was utter  _ rubbish!  _ Potter could have encountered anything out there that most likely confounded him and planted that idea in his mind. 

Percy had shaken his head in dismay when his family was quick to believe them. The words of those two fools were taken as if it was spoken by Merlin himself. 

Had they no dignity? 

And it wasn’t just his family either-some of those that worked within the ministry believed them as well! It was dumbfounding, to think that no one was thinking with their head. Just what were they thinking, committing social suicide? It wasn’t looking good. Minister Fudge had quietly ordered someone to keep an eye on those individuals, should they suddenly act....rash. 

Percy didn’t even want to think about  _ that _ . 

He didn’t want to acknowledge the invisible division line that had been driven in within the Ministry, that separated the ones that had believed and sided with Potter and Dumbledore and the people that were remaining loyal to the Ministry. 

An unnecessary complication, an irreversible consequence. 

Minister Fudge was under the impression that Potter was lying about the whole thing, he’d exclaimed such so during one of their meetings. He was adamant that it had something to do with Dumbledore wanting to seek out the minister position, effectively taking Fudge out. Dumbledore was a threat, then. He was using Harry for his own gain and Harry was either too blinded to see it or he was in on it, having not liked Fudge from the beginning. 

Once the TriWizard Tournament was over, Fudge had requested that Percy come to his office for a little chat. Naturally, Percy’s mind had been running rampant with worrisome thoughts, since it was typically never a good thing if one’s boss wished to have ‘a little chat.’ 

As it turned out, Fudge wanted to inquire Percy’s opinion on the matter. He wanted to know if Percy was falling for those absurd rumors that were dominating the newspapers and talk among the entire wizarding world. 

_ Percy rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles, trying to swallow back some of his apprehension.  _

_ He heard a voice say to him, “Ahh, Mr. Weasley. Come in, come in.”  _

_ Percy pushed the door open. “You wanted to see, Minister Fudge?”  _

_ “Yes, yes. Sit down, will you,” Minister Fudge gestured to one of the vacant chairs that were in front of his desk.  _

_ He did so, crossing his legs at the ankles.  _

_ “We have much to discuss, Mr. Weasley.”  _

_ “About what?” Percy tried to keep his voice leveled.  _

_ “You and your family are acquainted with Harry Potter, correct?”  _

_ He needn’t ask. Minister Fudge knew about his family’s relationship with Harry already.  _

_ “Yes, Sir,” he said carefully.  _

_ “Would you say you’re close with Mr. Potter?”  _

_ Percy was a little baffled by the question. “Not particularly, Sir. He’s my brother’s best friend.”  _

_ “But you would say that you’ve talked, correct?” Percy noted the sharpness to Minister Fudge’s tone.  _

_ “....Yes, Sir, we have.”  _

_ “I see,” Minister Fudge hummed.  _

_ Percy furrowed his eyebrows, uncertain of where the conversation was treading to. “Forgive me, Minister, but I don’t understand what my family’s relationship with Harry has to do with anything?”  _

_ “You will, Mr. Weasley. You will.”  _

_ There was a definitive silence. As unprofessional as it was, Percy glanced away from Minister Fudge, looking over at anything else. He didn’t know why, but he was beginning to grow quite uncomfortable by Fudge’s piercing stare.  _

_ “I’d hoped you weren’t going to be a disappointment, Mr. Weasley.”  _

_ “What?” It felt as though he’d been doused with icy water. “W-what do you mean?”  _

_ “Tell me, do you believe those rumors, Mr. Weasley?”  _

_ His tongue felt awfully flimsy. His legs were shaky. “I-erm-”  _

_ “Mr. Weasley,” Fudge narrowed his eyes. “I asked you a question.”  _

_ “No,” he blurted out.  _

_ It felt almost wrong to say it aloud but nevertheless, he did. He did and now that they were out in the open, he couldn’t take it back.  _

_ And now the entire meeting made sense.  _

_ He wished to know if Percy was like his family and agreed with their assumptions.  _

_ Like his father.  _

_ His family-his imbecilic father-was going to ruin his chances of being something great; they were going to ruin any chances he might have at becoming Minister one day.  _

_ And they didn’t care. They didn’t stop to think about him and his wants and desires.  _

_Because you aren’t important enough,_ _that voice reminded him silkily._ _Maybe if you were different. Maybe if you weren’t so ordinary._

_ Percy hadn’t wanted to be ordinary. He didn’t want to be looked at as the forgotten Weasley anymore. He wanted to make a new name for himself, something that would show the world his greatness.  _

_ He wanted to be extraordinary.  _

_ And the words just spilled from there.  _

_ “I’ve always had a bit of a suspicion about him,” he admitted.  _

_ Minister Fudge seemed to perk up at hearing that. “Oh? A suspicion about what?”  _

_ “I’m not quite sure. He just seems....less than genuine. There’s something off about him, that’s for sure.”  _

_ ‘Would you say he’s a reliable source for what seems to be occurring?”  _

_ “No,” Percy shook his head. “Surely not.”  _

_ “I see,” Minister Fudge repeated his earlier words, stroking his chin. “Pardon my intrusion, Mr. Weasley, but you earlier stated that Mr. Potter is your brother’s best friend. Is that correct?”  _

_ “Yes, Sir.”  _

_ “Has that friendship affected your family?”  _

_ Anyone else might have thought it was too much of a personal question, least of all a bit strange.  _

_ “Yes,” Percy breathed. “Quite so?”  _

_ “May I ask, how?”  _

_ Percy divulged how Potter had put them in danger countless times without thinking things through, how he had no regard for any rules and was determined to do whatever he wanted, whenever he pleased. He added that it was thoroughly frustrating how his family just fell for it and saw Potter as some celebrity rather than the spoilt child he was.  _

_ By the time Percy had finished ranting, he paused to take a deep breath.  _

_ Throughout the time he’d been talking, Minister Fudge hadn’t interrupted. He hadn’t asked any questions or made any comments. He gave Percy respect, he gave him what he wasn’t given at home. _

_ And it felt so  _ **_good._ **

_ At the end of the meeting, they rose to their feet and Minister Fudge shook his hand. “Thank you very much, Mr. Weasley. You have been very helpful. I will see to it that you are rewarded.”  _

_ Percy all but beamed. “Thank you, Minister!”  _

Potter was lying. 

Potter and Dumbledore were trying to bring Minister Fudge down. 

You-Know-Who wasn’t back. That was nonsense. Anyone that truly believed it was much too naive. 

Even his own family. 

_ Especially  _ his own family. 

Percy took one last look at the clock. He would decide to work a little longer and return home whenever he was done. It didn’t matter if his mum screamed from the rooftops at him for his  _ disobedience,  _ he wasn’t going to let her ruin his life any longer. 

Or anyone, for that matter. 

Percy Weasley wasn’t going to be the boring, bookish Weasley anymore. He wasn’t going to let his family run over him like he was a doormat. 

He was going to be extraordinary and outshine them all. 

He’d show them. 


	2. Chapter 2

It was nearing midnight by three minutes. 

Percy had taken care of the rest of his assigned paperwork, proofreading it for any mistakes or self-errors. Just when he was about to head out, he stopped by the designated location to drop it off. He tipped his head politely at the stand in secretary that had been temporarily hired for Charlene, the one whom he was used to seeing most often. He hadn’t heard the personal details of which had pulled her away from work for the next four months. He didn’t pry, as they weren’t friends by any means. 

However, he’d come to learn that the stand in was a poor substitute. He was a bit baffled as to how she had come across the job and managing to obtain it in the first place. 

Upon handing her his finished paperwork, she’d drawled out a thank you, sounding less than sincere. Her face was primarily emotionless, indicating to him that she would have rather to be anywhere else. He didn’t need to lean over much to know that a _Witch Weekly_ magazine was laying open in front of her with a detailed article about the _Weird Sisters_ and when they would be going on their next tour. He was taken aback by the sheer _nerve_ she had! It was hardly appropriate for a sophisticated establishment. He was going to need to have a word with Minister Fudge in the morning about her unprofessional behavior and made a mental note about it. 

Honestly, the audacity she had. She’d been given the privilege of working there instead of some ruddy shop and she didn’t even seem grateful. 

He mumbled some choices word underneath his breath as he went back to his office. She hadn’t heard him or if she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. 

Considering the time, he didn’t use the floo. His parents would either be up in their room waiting or settled in the kitchen; his mother would be grasping a cup of tea, her forehead crinkled with worry and his father would be trying to sooth her, albeit it would be vein because until he arrived home safely, she would continue to fret. 

It was far too troublesome to deal with. Lately, he’d been toying with the idea of finding his own flat and with the increase of friction occuring between him and his family, the idea was sounding more and more appealing. There would be no more hurried exits or lectures for coming home late that made him feel like a young child that was getting scolded. There would be no more questioning if _he was going to work again_ or shaken heads for his opinion regarding something being different than what it was expected to be. 

He had the money-he had been saving up since he started working at the ministry, putting a good deal of his earnings each pay week in his vault at Gringotts. The pay he was receiving was fairly generous, an amount that he’d never thought he would ever see in his lifetime. 

There was the reaction of his family that he had to take into account. They wouldn’t take the bombshell well; his mother had a fit when Bill and Charlie left and that was on pleasant terms. She wouldn’t be alright with him leaving, not now, not with the threat of You-Know-Who’s supposed return looming over them. 

She would try to stop him, try to have someone-Dumbledore-come to talk sense into him, to make him understand. But Percy didn’t have anything to understanding. He didn’t a reason to need any sense talked into him. 

His mother, or anyone else for that fact, wasn’t going to control his life. 

He was going to have control over his own life. 

With one last glance over at his desk, that he’d rearranged neatly, Percy apprated out of there to just outside of the burrow, a mere few feet away from the front door. The lights were off, except for one. It either meant his parents were in the kitchen or his mother had left it on for him when he arrived back. 

After a long day’s work, he was weary and eager to get into his bedroom and collapse on the bed. He didn’t even need to change clothes, the thought of the chilly pillow and soft, hand-woven blanket were enough for his eyelids to start closing. He blinked rapidly, about three times, before he shook his head and started to make his way to the door. 

With his hand on the doorknob, he gently opened it and relaxed a bit when it didn’t let out a screechy squeak like normal. 

The burrow was uncharacteristically quiet. His siblings were up, tucked away in their beds instead of occupying the space. There were no explosions happening nor were there any loud voices that tended to be. It was practically peaceful; Percy yearned for that sort of thing, to be able to hear his own thoughts without the usual chaos that kept him from doing so. Once, during the summer before his third year, he’d come down to the living room when everyone else was sound to sleep, simply to finish a book he’d been given without any possible interruptions. He hadn’t been making any excess noise or done anything they would have disapproved of; but later on the morning at breakfast, his mother asked around the table who had left the lamp on. Not thinking much of it, Percy had admitted it was home and apologized for it, promising his mother that he wouldn’t do it again. He hadn’t anticipated on her becoming vexed with him, forbidding him from doing it again without giving a clear reason why. 

(The twins had sniggered. They’d taunted him. “Perfect Percy’s in trouble,” they’d sung over and over, even after he snapped at them to shut up. Naturally, Percy was given a scolding for that, too). 

She was always doing that. He wasn’t allowed to do something and he didn’t know why. She didn’t have to give him a reason, she’d said with a wave of dismissal when he’d prodded her as to why. It was ridiculous; he was the most responsible out of all of them and yet she didn’t see it. She didn’t see how hard he worked, with school or his job at the Ministry. 

Percy shut the door behind him, being utmost careful not to let it make any sound. He would start to creep up the stairs, tip-toe to his room and give himself a couple minutes to unwind. But no sooner did he shut the door, did another light by the staircase come on and he whirled around in slight alarm. 

His mother was standing at the end of he stairs, with her hands on her hips. She was already wearing her night clothes and, by the looks of it, had been on the verge of falling asleep when he’d come through. Just how did she manage to sense when he or his siblings had just come through? 

“Where _have_ you been?” she hissed. 

“I was working,” he said a bit snappishly. “Like I alway am. I thought you knew that, Mother.” 

“I knew you were working earlier, but you never us anything anymore so how could I be sure? As far as your father and I know, you could’ve been taken by Death Eaters and left for dead!” 

“Do try to calm your dramatics,” he drawled in a way eerily similar to that of Malfoy. He shook that thought away. “I’m perfectly alright.” 

“So you say,” his mother snapped, straightening her posture to pull her dressing gown closer to her. “You had us sick with worry! Not even bothering to respond to the owl I sent...” 

“Of course not,” he wrinkled his nose, thinking back to the letter that one of the other secretaries (and not that _dreadful_ girl that was substituting) brought to him during his lunch. He didn't bother to open it, already knowing what it said. His mother was predictable in that aspect. “It’s unprofessional and I’ll not have my reputation tainted.” 

His mother bristled. “I am your mother, Percy. I have a right to know when you’re going to be home.” 

“I’ll be home when I’m finished with my work. I hardly see that as a problem.” 

“Are you aware of the time?" she flung a hand in the direction of the family clock. “ _Midnight_.” 

“I’m aware,” his response came out colder than he’d meant for it to. 

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man!” she wagged a finger at him, a sign that things would turn ugly very fast if he didn’t backtrack now. “You may be of age, but don’t think I won’t hesitate to take you over my knee!” 

There she did it again; treating him like some child, threatening to inflict childish punishments for absolutely nothing. Of course, she never did the same thing to the twins, the ones who really deserved to be taken over her knee. 

_That’s because she likes them better_

_She likes everyone more than you_

_Because they’re not boring_

_Or annoying_

_Or a buzzkill_

She wanted him to blush, to look ashamed of his behavior and had it been any other instance, he might have done that very thing. He might have done what Perfect Prefect Percy was expected to do and take what was dished out at him, while never dueling anything out at anyone. 

His mother paused, apparently thinking that she was owed an apology for his supposed attitude that he’d given her. Percy wouldn’t placate her; he folded his arms across his chest, giving her the same pointed look she gave her children, using it as a way to silence them. His mother looked appalled that he hadn’t started to exclaim how sorry he was, how he was supposed to act, how he was expected to act as the good child and obey their orders without questioning because they knew best. 

He grit his teeth. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” his mother was looking flustered and wringing her hands-a habit, he’d noticed that she did when she was struggling to rein in her temper. “But it’s unacceptable! You _know_ better, Percy Ignatius Weasley! Your father and I raised better than that!” 

He had to bite his tongue, to refrain from retorting some rather _vulgar_ criticism regarding their parenting skills. His jaw was clenched and he fought to keep his breathing even. 

There was more silence that stalled. 

The blood was pounding in his ears; he couldn’t hear the tick, tick of the clock anymore. 

He thought she was going to start shouting at him. Raise a hand and smack him on the back of his head like she and his father had done when he or his siblings had done something relatively mild as a young child. 

Mostly, though, that was his father. 

His mother would screech at them until his or his siblings ears would be ringing. 

And if it wasn’t such a late hour, she would probably be doing it. 

“You missed dinner,” she informed him when she finally spoke up. She took a glance over at the table. It was cleaned up for the day, except for a lone cup that was on the corner. Percy didn’t stare too long at it; the table had a way of bringing forth unpleasant memories that he’d rather suppress. 

“I’m aware,” he repeated, slightly less sharp. 

“I saved you some stew.” 

“Right,” he said tersely. He didn’t eat the previous leftovers she’d saved for him. His appetite had diminished greatly. His mother would remark that he was getting ‘much too thin’ and force him to eat something of substance. 

She looked older in that moment, sighing like she was lost, as if she were helpless. Momentarily, her anger seemed to have dissipated and she only looked worn. “It’s the fifth time this week. Least you could do is make it for dinner and go back if that’s what you must do.” 

“I haven’t the time,” he tried to sound patient, tried not to let too much irritation seep into his voice. “I’m very busy and haven’t the time to make any unnecessary visits.” 

“Your father makes it home in time for dinner,” she said, her voice on the edge of accusatory. “I see no reason why you can’t.” 

“Father and I have significantly different jobs,” he said coolly. Their jobs were hardly comparable. One was far more distinguish and the other-well, he’d just leave it at that. 

His mother’s cheeks reddened; they’d both known what he’d meant by _significantly different._

“I’m afraid, Mother, that I won’t always be at your beck and call. You’ll do well to learn that.” 

He’d spit those words out harshly and the temperature in the room noticeably dropped to a chilling degree. 

He’d never so much as spoken up against his mother before, never so much as raised his voice and done the opposite of how he should have reacted. 

It felt freeing. It felt _good._

His mother was gaping, spluttering incomprehensibly in a way that he hadn't witnessed before. 

“You were perfectly sensible before you took that job,” her voice teetered on a whisper, a whisper that echoed soundly through the area. “You never stepped a toe out of line before. I think it might be time to reevaluate that job of yours-” 

“ _NO_!”

His mother barely flinched. 

Percy didn’t know what had come over him; it was a feeling of utter rage being doused on him, fueling a fire that had been quietly brewing for some time now after he finally had, after he couldn’t take it anymore and it just boiled over. It was lit; and the result was catastrophic. 

He couldn’t one thing that was his, not _one_! Not one thing that was entirely his own, something that he genuinely enjoyed and found pleasure in. Something that was productive and contributed to society, that didn’t a trail of humiliation or inadequacy behind. 

But they couldn’t be happy for him, could they? His mother, of whom had expressed her happiness when he received word that he was a prefect and later on headboy, couldn’t fin it in her heart to be happy for him now. She couldn’t accept that he’d found something that was perfect just for him. It wasn’t the job that he’d planned on working for the rest of his life for, but that was to come. Until then, it would’ve been nice to have some support. 

His brothers and sister had give their-erm-opinion of his job already. They thought it was laughable that he was doing sub par tasks when he’d aimed so high during school. The twins thought that it was a mystery as to how Percy was related to the rest of the family, as he was so different. 

He’d show them. 

He’d prove himself. 

He didn’t need to be like them, to be so dismissive of his future and settle for ordinary. 

But you are ordinary 

_You’re nothing like the others_

_You don’t have their talent_

_You’re just boring old Perfect Percy_

_It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends_

_Who would want to be friends with a prat like you?_

“As much as I _appreciate_ your concern, Mother,” he said acidly, “I’m fine with where I’m at. I quite like my job.” 

“That isn’t the point!” she breathed, her anger resurfacing. “You must be careful out there, Percy. Something could happen...any one of those people could wish to hurt you.” 

“Did Dumbledore tell you that?” he spat out. 

His mother looked like she’d been slapped. “Dumbledore has your best interest, he has our best interest at heart.” 

“Bollocks,” and before his mother could bark out reproach for his language, Percy continued, “he’s using us, Mother. He doesn’t care about us at all. It’s only because of Potter that we’re even involved in this mess. There is no danger and the sooner you understand that, the better.” 

He just felt utterly exhausted. 

Didn’t she see how blinded they were? His family would willingly die if the old fool insisted it was necessary. They wouldn’t question it and express their astoundment that he would and not just take what he said as law. 

“Where is all this coming from?” his mother’s eyes were clouded with astonishment. “You never used to say a bad thing about Professor Dumbledore before. Are you hearing things at the Ministry? Is that where this is coming from?” 

“Does it _matter_? Dumbledore is barmy. He hasn’t the faintest clue on how to properly run a school and I’m almost surprised to know that you’re willing to let Ron and Ginny return.” 

Especially after the incident involving Ginny during her first year. How had they not reacted so strongly? How had they not immediately taken Ginny and her things and brought her right home? How had they been able to let her go back the next school year without fear of something else occurring? _How_ had they entrusted Ginny or any of their children in Dumbledore's care after that, without so much as a touch of suspicion that anything else could go wrong? 

“And you do?” his mother’s voice had gone cold. 

He drew in a breath. “I assume I could do a better job, yes.” 

“You haven’t the faintest clue either,” she said fiercely. “You’ve no idea the work that goes into Hogwarts and the duties that Professor Dumbledore has to fulfill. You’re only eighteen years old, you don’t know everything yet, despite what those ministry officials may tell you.”

“ _Those ministry officials_ ,” he sneered, “have more confidence in me than you do! And you’re well aware of it, aren’t you? That’s why you hate them, right? Because they care me about and believe in me more than you do.” 

His mother’s eyes hardened and her lips were in a thin line. “I’ve enough of this, Percy,” she said in a tone that was whispering, yet bordered on yelling. “No more of this silly conversation. You know what you’re supposed to do and as the older one, you’ve to be a good role model for your brothers and sister-” 

She was cut off by his incredulous scoff. 

“ _Role model_?” His mother was mental if she had fooled herself into beliving that the twins, Ron or Ginny would look up to him as a role model. Was she that oblivious? Did she not see how much he was pushed around, how he was shoved to the side, or had she conditioned herself to ignore it? 

“Yes,” she seemed offended that he was daring to question it. “Of course. The twins look up to you, you know. Perhaps in a different way but-” 

“ _THEY LOCKED ME IN A BLOODY PYRAMID_ !” he thundered. And she’d _laughed_ . His whole family had found the incident so _bloody_ amusing. Her halfhearted reprimanding of the twins had no affect as she had been attempting to smother her giggles, never mind the fact how he’d reacted being in there; never mind the fact that he’d developed claustrophobia after that. 

“Lower your voice!” she ordered, eyes blazing. “You’ll wake everyone else.” 

But Percy was fired up. His temper was flared and he only saw red. 

His mother had been quick to dismiss his counter, just as she always did. 

“Molly?” a voice yawned. “What’s going on?” 

His father, his _bloody_ father had sleepily come trodding down the stairs. He seemed to awaken a bit more at the sight of Percy, hand clenching his wand so tightly it turned a sickly pale color. Father and son’s eyes met briefly. 

“Your son,” his mother started to say, dangerously, “has no regard for his safety or the safety of this family. Believes that he can come and go as he pleases! After midnight and only just getting home. Simply outrageous! I’ve enough of his attitude, that's for sure.” 

_Attitude_. 

Always finding something that was wrong, she did. Never thinking that maybe it wasn’t him with the attitude. 

“Well?” his mother looked at his father, sharply. “Aren’t you going to say anything to your son?” 

_Of course,_ Percy inwardly sneered. _Always the dictator, aren’t you, mother?_

His fater would be lost with his wife’s directions. A bumbling idiot. Couldn’t even properly discipline his children. Oh, he remembered when the twins and Ron snuck out to Surrey with that enchanted car, all under the impression that Potter needed some sort of rescue. His mother had unleashed her fury on them, only to assign them a measly punishment that wasn’t really a proper punishment at all; not for the offense of possibly letting out the secret of magic for the muggle world to know! They should have had more than just de-gnoming the garden; they should have been made to understand the drastic repercussions that could have followed and what could have happened to their world because of their carelessness. 

His father had been intrigued, for all the wrong reasons. He’d eagerly wanted to find out the details until his wife hit him on the shoulder, glowering. 

“Ah, yes, quite right,” his father said hastily. Percy stood up straighter, muscles tensed. “Erm, Percy, you know better than to question your mother. Try to get home on time, okay? I’m sure whatever work you have to do can wait until the next day.” 

_They wouldn’t be saying that if it was anyone else_

_They’d be proud of them_

_But they aren’t proud of you_

“You cannot possibly expect me to-” Percy started off hotly. 

“We _can_ and we will,” his mother seethed and his father laid a hand on her to wordlessly calm her down. “You heard what Professor Dumbledore said. It isn’t safe out there. Your father and I would like you to be home earlier and that's that. I don’t want to hear another word about it, Percy.” 

_Dumbledore said....Dumbledore this...Dumbledore said that...._

He was feeling a bit woozy. His anger had spiked up in a way that hadn’t affected him before. If he’d bothered to look down, he would have seen that his hands were trembling a bit. 

“Go to your room,” his mother told him in a finalized tone that left no room for any discussion, any protests. “Your father and I will talk about this later.” 

He stormed past them and up to the stairs, into his room, slamming the door behind him. 

He paced around, back and forth, back and forth. 

A loud crash, surrounding his ears; somehow, he managed to remain calm, hardly startled. 

It all landed in a pile for the most part, he inspected it fleetingly. A lone quill rolled over beside his bed, stopping short just underneath of it. 

As quickly as it came, his fury dissipated. He was left standing there, exhaling out a breath. 

He _should_ have been embarrassed by his outburst; at least the tiniest bit ashamed. Never once did he recall ever succumbing to his ire. He was able to maintain it, put on a façade to shield everyone else from knowing the truth; from knowing how twisted he felt on the inside. 

But that was the thing....he didn’t feel any regret at all. 

_You shouldn't_

_You're entitled to being upset_

_You were wronged_

_They only want to bring you don’t_

_They don’t even care that they’re causing you pain_

_And they never will_


	3. Chapter 3

The rain was trickling down his window. 

__ It was starting out to be a rather dreary day; the clouds had come up all of the sudden, a sort of cloudiness that lingered in the sky casted a dark shadow over the house, enveloping his bedroom in the darkness, too. It brought forth the rain that had been steadily coming down since around six or so-off and on since then; switching back and forth from a heavy downpour that thudded so loudly against the rooftop that it drowned out all other noise to a dainty sprinkle. 

He’d rather liked the rain ever since he was a child. Those days, standing near the window and watching as it poured while holding up one hand to the glass, his eyes sparkling with childish curiosity. He was the only one of his siblings to enjoy being curled up near the window, reading a book by himself as he listened. It was calming, a great contrast to that of the noisy Burrow. He could get lost within his own little world, a world where he wasn’t the butt of any pranks or criticism. 

He could just be Percy. 

As he grew older, he still held a certain fondness for it, though he detested getting wet. He disliked feeling sticky and having that smell that could only come from getting stuck in that rain. He did what he could to avoid it, even if it meant the twins snickering about him being ‘prissy’ and taking to calling him Prissy Percy for a while. 

(His irritation was bubbling again. No matter what, the twins seemed to have it out for him. They couldn’t simply leave him be, not without doing something at his expense). 

He drew up the covers and tucked them in their respective corners, neatly smoothing out the spaces where the blanket had had risen. He’d been up for a couple hours at the most but had yet to venture his way downstairs for any breakfast. He was going to stall for as long as he could, until his mother would get preoccupied with something else and his siblings were away from the vicinity, so he could possibly pick up a stray sausage or two and take it back to his room without being seen. He was in no mood to take anything from anyone; and should his parents utter a careless word or his siblings push one more of his buttons-

Well, he wasn’t certain that he would be able to contain himself.  His self-control was hanging by a thread, a thread that was on its last end, that had been stretched to the breaking point. 

_ Do it,  _ the voice said almost gleefully.  _ Explode. Show them that you mean it  _

He shouldn't. 

_ You should _

_ They don't deserve anymore patience, don't you think?  _

_ You've given out enough, already  _

_ And what have they done for you?  _

_ Nothing,  _ Percy realized. They'd done nothing to warrant any politeness, any dignified behavior. 

_ That's right!  _

_ They've ruined every second chance you've given them  _

_ Why start another?  _

_ Why give them another chance to hurt you?  _

He shouldn't. He shouldn't let them. They would just let him down, time and time again. Like they always did. 

He let out a sleep-deprived yawn. He'd stayed up until three in the morning, swaying from the strict regimen he typically adhered to. He would stress the importance of a nightly schedule and how it shouldn't be taken lightly, as it contributed to one's success. However,  his emotions had been running high, to where he couldn’t relax, couldn’t be lulled into sleep like he’d hoped to. For the longest time, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring ahead at the wall blankly and contemplating on his life up to thus far. 

And how it felt so....so  _ subpar.  _

His parents had stayed downstairs for at least another half an hour. They were talking in hushed, terse voices. Percy snuck out of his room to hover by the top of the staircase, crouched down to listen. It was a risky move, he knew that, should any of his siblings chose that moment to awaken, they would let their parents know right away. 

(He  _ still  _ wasn’t quite sure how none of them had woken up after he’d bellowed like he did. They were heavier sleepers than he last remembered). 

Still, there was an itching, a startling sense of yearning. He  _ had  _ to know what they were saying. Peeking through the in-betweens of the rails, he saw the shadows of his parents. They’d gone into the kitchen and the light reflected their movements. His mother was waving her hands around wildly, recounting what had happened before his father came down the stairs in the midst of their argument. 

He couldn’t very well understand everything they were saying, only managing to catch a few words here and there- _ mistake  _ and  _ Fudge  _ being a couple of them. At one point, he swore he heard his mother plead with his father to check up on him at work every so often, just to see if he’s alright. 

It set off a sigh that nearly escaped past his lips. They couldn’t just leave him be, could they? They were so entranced with the absurd idea that he needed to be checked up on like some teary first year that was homesick after leaving for the first time. They didn’t think to stop and ponder that he didn’t want them to fret over him, to bother him with silly questions that he would inevitably become angry at. 

He wanted to be left alone. 

How hard was that to understand? 

Sometime around one, when the clock struck, his father put an end to the conversation, gently guiding his wife away and promising that they would discuss it at length some other time. Percy rose to his feet and went back to his own room, where he sat behind the door. It was open by a slight crack, a sliver of light lit up his room, but he was hidden within the darkness. His parents passed by his room and he’d heard the stifled sob from his mother, her wondering of  _ where did they go wrong  _ and his father’s sigh. There’d been some unintelligible words exchanged after that, that not even the straining of his ears could pick up on. 

Then they closed the door and silence resumed in the burrow. 

Until he’d finally succumbed to the sleep he’d been longing for, Percy tossed and turned, his legs becoming wound up within the covers. When he finally drifted off, burying half of his face in the pillow and with the blanket pulled up to his shoulder, the horrid thoughts that had plagued him during the day had started to cease. Peace had come at last. 

But peace had a sneaky way of leaving as well. 

He really should have known that peace never stayed long at the burrow. 

It was almost two hours later when he abruptly woke up. He’d muttered a charm to lit his candle that was on his desk in the corner of his room. He was the first one awake, so he assumed. His siblings didn’t make it a habit of getting up early during their summer holiday, not unless they were forcibly dragged by their mother. 

And speaking of his mother, if he knew her well enough, she’d probably spent the earlier portion of the morning drinking some tea and making sure some of the housework was getting done before everyone else woke up. 

Percy was brought out of his daydream by the noise that came floating up from downstairs. His siblings were up, he noted. There was a mixture of sleepy chatter and clunking of silverware. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, debating on whether to make an appearance or not. He was famished-and if he didn’t, his mother would demand that he come down there, anyway. 

_ She’s always demanding, isn’t she?  _

_ Never mind the fact that you’re adult  _

_ You don’t need to be ordered around  _

_ But she won’t accept that  _

_ She thinks she owns you  _

_ She thinks you should just listen without questioning it  _

Percy strolled down the creaky stairs, deciding to just be done with it and get it over with. His face was contorted into an even facial expression, neither pleasant nor nasty. He made his way to the kitchen, stopping short to linger in the doorway momentarily. 

His siblings were engaged in a lively conversation. Ron was stuffing his face with sausage and bacon, that Ginny was playfully harping on him for because he’d “taken it all.” The twins were further away, near the windows and teasingly asking Ron if he planned on sharing any of that. His mother was reassuring them that there was still plenty of food left, as she flipped an egg out of the pan and onto one of the twin’s plates. Her face was glistening with sweat from the cooking that was done. 

Then they noticed Percy standing there. 

And the noise just  _ disappeared _ . 

And the air became thicker, noticeably thicker. 

He really just wanted to leave. 

It was a mistake to come down there. 

He didn’t greet any of them and they didn’t say anything to him either. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother glance in his general direction, the faintest hint of emotion crossing her face. 

Evidently, his siblings had noticed that, too. Their faces hardened and those four pairs of eyes bore into his back as he pointedly looked away, pouring some juice for himself. He sat at the furthest end of the table, taking a sip while still avoiding everyone best as he could. 

They were still looking at him. He knew they were itching to say something. 

To start something. 

“You’re still here,” Ginny was saying in a tight voice, coming to his ears as if she were off in the distance and not fairly close. “Thought you’d be at the ministry by now.” 

She was trying to antagonize him, trying to goad him into a fight. It wasn’t going to work. Percy wouldn’t take the bait. 

“I don’t leave until later,” he said smoothly, masking any other feeling he might have with faux pleasantness. “You very well know that.” 

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t go in earlier to avoid us,” Ginny muttered darkly. 

The comment had been said lowly enough that their mother hadn’t heard as she tended back to the stove.  _ Surprise, surprise!  _ Percy’s mind seethed.  _ She never hears anything important!  _ But Ron and the twins had; the twins quietly snickered and Ron made some noise of agreement. 

_ She’s conveniently deaf until you open your mouth  _

_ She’s always been that way  _

_ Because you’ve never been her favorite  _

_ You’ve never been good enough  _

“Right,” Fred (or George) agreed, smirking. “We  _ all  _ know how much Percy loves his job.” 

“More than life itself,” the other twin chimed in. 

“Probably more than us.” 

“More than magic.” 

“More than girls.” 

“Now, now, Georgie,” Fred was in a tone normally reserved for a small child, as if George was incapable of understanding, “you know that Percy, here, wards off girls.” 

“Quite right, Fred. Why, I don’t know one that would  _ willingly  _ touch him!” George’s voice was laced with laughter. Ginny covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her own giggles. 

“Boys!” their mother snapped and Ginny subtly rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, come on, Mum,” Fred protested jovially. “We all know it’s true. When was the last time Percy had a girlfriend?” 

“Well,” George feigned a thoughtful expression, ruined by the grin he couldn’t keep off his face, “there was that Clearwater girl back in sixth year, but she dumped you, didn’t she, Percy?” 

He was mocking Percy, he was! 

Percy wasn’t fooled by the  _ innocent  _ tone in which George tried to use. 

His parents might have been easy to pull the wool over but not _ him _ . 

“Leave me  _ alone, _ ” he said steely. 

He’d said it coldly, something that put a chill to the already tense table. 

(Still, their mother didn’t do a  _ thing _ ). 

The twins seemed to perk up. “Hit a nerve, did we?” one of them asked, wryly. 

“Why, Percy, could that because you’re still hung up on Miss Clearwater?” 

“Like a leech to skin, I’d say.” 

“Say, Fred, didn’t  _ she  _ break up with him?” 

“I do believe you’re right, George. I think she got a little bored, since he hasn’t a fun bone in his body.” 

“Probably fell asleep while he went on and on about his prefect duties.” 

“Doesn’t everyone do that?” 

Percy’s cheeks were red and he hated himself for that. 

“ _ Enough! _ ”  _ Now  _ their mother was going to intervene. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense-” He had a flashback to when they’d had their argument. She’d said that to him as well. 

Fred and George lowered their eyes, still grinning as they continued to eat their food. 

It became quiet around the table again. Percy was struggling to contain his anger, holding his cup in a death grip. Ginny was eyeing him with raised eyebrows, her mouth twitching. 

She found it humorous, that he’d been upset.  _ She  _ wouldn’t have found it so amusing if the twins had made fun of her and her love life. 

But it was always  _ so bloody  _ funny when Percy the Bookworm got made fun of. 

He didn’t feel like eating anymore. 

Their mother put down the pan that contained the sausage and beacon, giving them all a stern look. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, kids,” she started but was cut off by Ron. 

“Me?” he cried. “I haven’t said anything!” But their mother shushed him. 

“I’ve enough of it. You’re all old enough to know better. Now, eat your food and get a move on it. You all have chores to finish and I won’t have any of you dragging your feet about it. And Percy-” They were staring at him  _ again _ . He ignored it, tried to. “Your father and I would like to talk to you when he gets back. Don’t try to get out of it.” 

_ Must she say that in front of everyone else?  _

‘Yes, mother,” he said with a sour feeling on his tongue. 

“Hay-Where’s dad at?” Ron spoke suddenly, as if just noticing that the spot their father occupied was empty.

The twins rolled their eyes, slapping their foreheads. 

“Really, Ron?” Ginny said exasperatedly. “You just  _ now _ noticed?’ 

“I wasn’t paying attention?” Ron said defensively. 

“ _ Clearly _ .” 

“Ginny, be nice to your brother,” their mother scolded her, then to Ron, she told him. “He’s gone to get Harry.” There was a fond smile on her face. “He said he’ll be back soon enough. Oh, I should cook more sausage, shouldn’t I? Poor dear is always so thin.” 

“Yes, yes, poor Harry,” Fred snickered. 

“Such a dear boy. Always so polite.” 

“Except when he lets his temper fly,” George said mournfully. 

“Ah, the famous Harry Potter temper.” 

“ Not quite as explosive as the famous Weasley temper, eh, Ginny?” 

Ginny rolled her eyes, taking her plate to the sink and washing it off. She didn’t dignify them with a response. 

“Is your room clean, Ronnie?” their mother inquired. 

Ron looked a bit embarrassed to be addressed by the nickname. The twins sniggered. “Yeah,” he muttered. 

“Good,” she nodded. 

“Yeah.” 

“Wouldn’t want-” 

“Harry to be-” 

“Trapped in that-” 

“Mess of yours,” they finished. 

Ron scowled. "It's not that messy." 

"Oh, we beg to differ little brother," Fred grinned. 

"We've been in there," George said. "Nearly bitten by one of your socks. Bit of a frightening experience." 

"Oh, shove off!" Ron snapped. 

Percy tuned out their juvenile bickering, mulling over that his mother had mentioned Potter was coming over-until the start of school, he reckoned with a hint of distaste. His family was all too willing to bring the boy in, ignorant to the danger they were putting themselves in. 

Ignorant to how it was going to look for Percy, whom was trying his hardest to up his ranks within the ministry. How was it that he was going to improve when they were housing a liar? Minister Fudge understood-thank Merlin he did-but not everyone would and that made him nervous. It was no secret to the department he worked in that his family was on the side of Dumbledore and Potter, that they were close with both and choose them over any opposition. So, it was a surprise to some when Percy dared to be different, when he stood out against them and began his own path. 

He got up, meaning to go back to his room and stay there until it was time for him to leave for work. He took his cup to the sink, not saying anything to his mother when she stopped him. 

“Percy, you haven’t eaten.” 

“I’m not very hungry, Mother,” it was half the truth. He was still a bit put off by the twin teasing him about Penelope, though he was also a bit peckish. He clneched his stomach muscles to quiet down a growl. 

“You still need to eat,” she said in a scolding tone. “Sit down and get a plate.” 

“I would  _ really  _ prefer not to. I can wait until lunch.” 

“That’s hours away,” she shook her head. “You need something now.” 

“ _ Mother _ ,” he ground out. 

He’d forgotten that the twins and Ron were still in the room, watching the exchange with fascination because Percy  _ never  _ questioned their mother. He would do just what they told him to do and look down on  _ them  _ because they weren’t mindless like he was. 

“I think hell’s frozen over,” Fred said loudly. “Never thought Percy would be such a rebel.” 

“I think we should be afraid,” George continued. “ _ Very  _ afraid.” 

“Shut up!” Percy snapped at them. 

“ _ Percy!  _ Don’t yell at your brothers!” 

Percy gaped. “Why aren’t you telling them to stop bothering me?” he demanded. “They won’t leave me alone and you never do anything about it!” 

“I’ve defended you plenty of times.” 

He let out a humorless laugh. “Hardly. Never when it counts. The twins bewitched my prefect and head boy badge multiple times and you did nothing about it. You told me to get over it. You said they were  _ only joking _ .” Those last two words were practically spit out like acid. “It’s always that they’re  _ only joking _ . They can’t seem to take any responsibility for their actions because you don’t make them.” 

The kitchen chilled further. 

“Now hold on,” Fred started. 

“Don’t tell us.” 

“That you’re still-” 

“Upset-” 

“Over your badge.” 

“That was years ago,” George waved it off. 

“My point still stands,” Percy said through grit teeth. “You have no sense of boundaries and think you’re fit to do whatever you please.” 

“Now, Percy, don’t exaggerate,” his mother was fumbling for the right words. “You know that’s not true.” 

“It isn’t?” he said sardonically. “Could have fooled me, Mother.” 

“What’s your problem?” Fred stood. 

“Yeah,” George added. “You’re acting like a prick, more than usual.” 

_ I’ve only just said how I feel,  _ he exhaled.  _ I spoke the truth. I suppose speaking the truth equals being a prick.  _

_ Because they don’t want that  _

_ They want you to just take it  _

_ Forget it _ , Percy huffed,  _ just forget it _ . He turned on his heel, clamping his mouth shut when he heard Fred saying,  _ Can’t take it, can he?  _

Then there was George agreeing with,  _ Told you, a right prick.  _

He passed by Ginny and their eyes met. Ginny wore an unreadable expression that Percy didn’t try to understand. He just wanted to get away and into his room again for some solitude. He was halfway up the stairs when Ginny glanced up at him and returned to the kitchen, to get details on what happened, he was sure. 

At the top, he halted. 

Merlin, it wasn’t even noon yet and he wanted a drink. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren't a fan of the whole twin speak thing, dont worry. I wont be doing that a lot


	4. Chapter 4

As it turned out, Ron’s room was nowhere near the acceptable condition that their mother would have preferred it to be. She’d slid past Percy, never giving him a second look as she spoke to Ron in a stern voice, warning him that he was going to be in trouble if it wasn’t straightened up as she’d been instructed him to do since the start of the summer holidays. 

“Ronald Weasley,” her voice went up pitch, a reminisce of the day she’d sent him a howler for taking the enchanted car to Hogwarts. “This is  _ not  _ cleaned, young man!” 

“Mum, it’s fine,” Ron protested. Percy was standing at the bottom of the stairs and could see his younger brother’s shadow moving along the walls as he flung his arms around, trying to wiggle his way out of the metaphorical hole he’d drug himself into. “Harry won’t care.” 

“ _ I  _ care,” their mother retorted in that no-nonsense tone she frequently used on him and the twins. “I’ve asked you for weeks now to do some tidying up and you told me you’d do it.” 

“And I did!” 

“Does this look cleaned up, Ron?” their mother asked rhetorically. “Merlin’s sake-i can hardly see the floor.” 

“You can see it-” there was a slight pause, “over there.” 

Percy rolled his eyes, grateful that he hadn’t ever shared a living space with his brother. Ron had been disgustingly messy ever since he was quite young. He remembered there had one occasion where Ron’s room, then being shared with Ginny since Bill and Charlie were still living at the Burrow, had smelled  _ absolutely  _ horrid-a nasty old putrid smell that was floating up from one of the corners of the room, adjacent to the window. No one had sure as to what it was until their mother pulled back a blanket that had been thrown over there; it was a tiny pile of who-knows-how-many-week old sandwiches. Evidently, Ron had snuck them in during lunch time, planning on consuming them during the night as a midnight snack but ultimately forgot all about them until that very moment. 

The twins sometimes brought it up for their own amusement. Ron’s ears would go the brightest red Percy had ever seen. 

Percy was brought out of his daydream by the sound of his mother’s boots stomping on the way down the stairs. She was still lecturing Ron, not that any of them were surprised. “You’d better clean that up before Harry gets here, Ron and I mean it,” their mother nagged. “You know better than to leave it looking like that. Why, what if Hermione comes over?” 

Ron followed her halfway, blinking bemusedly. “So?” 

Their mother blew out a puff of air, exasperatedly. Sometimes, Ron’s head screwed on much too tightly, for most things flew over him. The twins were nearby and they sniggered. 

"Yeah, Ronniekins-" 

"What if dear Hermione comes over?" 

"She'd be right upset you, won't she?" 

"Bet she'll lecture him-" 

"Tell him not to be so messy." 

"Like Percy." 

"Isn't that true, Percy?" One of the twins asked him, wiggling his eyebrows. "You like cleanliness?" 

"Just a wee bit," the other twin added. "Remember our trip to see Bill?" 

"Bet he wanted to dust off those old pyramids." 

"Give them a good polish like mum does." 

"Is that what you did, eh Percy?" They grinned mischievously. 

"Shut up!" He'd had enough! Could not they not leave him alone for a  _ few bloody minutes?  _ Why didn't they go bother Ron or Ginny? Why was it  _ always him _ ? 

He didn't think he'd done anything to warrant that sort of treatment. Least of all for it to happen over and  _ over again _ . 

“Boys!” Percy only just held back a flinch at the sudden sharpness of her tone. He’d forgotten that their mother was standing there, concentrating still on Ron when Percy’s raised voice had reached her ears. Naturally, it was  _ his  _ luck that she’d rounded on them only after  _ he’d  _ spoken out against them-not when Fred and George had taunted him. Not when it mattered. “Honestly!” she threw her hands up in the air, fed up with their behavior. Which should’ve been aimed at the twins. It was  _ their  _ behavior that had started all of this.  _ Not his _ . "Second time today! What is it going to take for you three to stop acting like children? You're all old enough to know better. You, especially, Percy." 

_ It wasn't even my fault!  _

_ They started it!  _

_ Why aren't you getting angry at them?  _

_ Why must you always target me?  _

“We didn’t do anything mum,” the twins chorised, quick to push the blame all onto him. 

She narrowed her eyes. 

“Honest, mum,” one of them insisted. 

"Yeah, Percy, here just has a stick so far up his bum that-" 

“Do  _ not  _ finish that sentence, young man,” their mother warned. “I don't want to hear of it." 

The twins shrugged and it  _ infuriated  _ him more. 

He’d been so angry lately....seemed to be coming out at random. He couldn’t explain it, but something was fueling him, whispering gently in his ear, encouraging him. 

Ron was nowhere to be found. Percy believed that he must have gone back into his room to continue on doing what he was asked to do.  _ Or  _ to escape their mum's wrath. Which was far more plausible, seeing that his brother was regrettably lazy. Percy was immensely grateful that Minister Fudge had looked past of whom he was associated with, otherwise he might not have had a chance at his job. 

“Say, mum,” one of the twins spoke up, brushing what just occurred aside, “when’s dad getting back?” 

“Yeah,” the other said thoughtfully-which was unusual for them-”He left about an hour ago. Shouldn’t take too long, I’d think.” 

_ You don't think at all  _

Their mother bit down on her lower lip, rubbing a single finger on the side of her chin. She must have been thinking along the same train of thought. “It is a bit odd,” she said uneasily. “Your father was under strict instructions to bring Harry straight here." 

"Might have something to do with those muggles," one of the twins muttered darkly. 

"Worst sort I've ever seen." 

"Oh, boys," their mother said but she made no further attempts to disagree with what they'd said. Then, she asked, "You don't suppose your father told you if he was going anywhere else, did he?" 

The twins looked to one another and then shrugged again. "Sorry, mum.” 

"Oh, drat," she cursed. "Well, I suppose we'll have to wait." She didn't look pleased at the prospect. Worry lines were appearing in her forehead and she wrung a towel that she'd thrown over her shoulder when she'd come up to Ronald's room. 

"Wouldn't worry, mum," one of the twins said easily. 

"Yeah," the other chimed in, "dad's just probably making Harry show him around his relative's house. You know how mad dad is about muggle things." 

Their mother smiled slightly, appreciatively. 

"More ways than one," George- Percy was certain that's who it was- snorted quietly so as he wouldn't be heard. 

"Too right, dear twin of mine." 

"Percy," their mother directed to him. His lips thinning, he turned to face her, silently waiting for the question or command that was surely to come. "Have you done any of your chores yet?" 

"No, mother," he said carefully. "I have not." 

"Guess Perfect Percy isn't so perfect anymore." 

It was said so quietly that Percy's ears had to strain to hear it-but he did, nonetheless. 

A flicker of surprise and mild irritation went through her eyes. Percy's body tensed up, anticipating on a fight that was beginning to brew. He  _ should  _ have been ashamed and excised himself to go do what he was told. He  _ would  _ have-normally. 

So, why didn’t he feel one ounce of shame? His shoulders straightened and he was preparing to defend himself against her harsh criticism and the inevitable comparison between him and his brothers that would surely come from her. 

But it never came. 

She didn’t let her temper fly as it did last night. She remained calm, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be for very long. “Percy,” she said, giving a look as if she were studying him.  “I told you things needed to be done. What’ve you been doing all this time?” 

_ That’s none of your business!  _

“It isn’t important,” he brushed her question off.

The twins’ eyes bugged and their mouths opened up. They were surprised and amused, looking as though they were going to erupt into giddy laughter at the fact that he’d spoken to their mother in such a way. 

So, unPercy-like. 

_ I don’t want to be that person anymore  _

_ I want to be new and improved  _

_ I want to be someone that I can be proud of  _

“Uh, oh,” one of them muttered. 

“Guess Percy’s-” 

“A bit-” 

“Upset.” 

Their mother didn’t acknowledge the twins’ rambling. She was  _ not  _ having it that he’d ignored her request.  “It is when I’ve asked you to do something and you haven’t listened! You should know better, Percy! I haven’t needed to tell you twice before.” 

_ Because you’ve mindlessly done what you were told  _

_ Now you’re fighting back and she doesn’t like it  _

_ Because you don’t have to  _

_ Because you’re an adult  _

_ You’re not some child anymore  _

_ Because I didn’t want to _ , the words were on the tip of his tongue, though he knew better than to say those out loud. 

_ Don’t censor yourself  _

_ You can say what you want  _

_ Don't let them stifle you  _

He needn’t say anything in defence of himself. There was a roar coming from the fireplace as it sprung to life, green flames casting an emerald shadow over briefly. Potter stumbled out first, nearly tripping over his right foot but caught a hold of himself and managed to stay upright. 

“Harry!” the twins greeted in unison. They ruffled his hair affectionately and his mouth quirked into a grin. 

Their mother clasped her hands together. “Ron, Ginny,” she called, “Harry’s here!” 

In mere seconds, his two youngest siblings flew past them in a rush. A couple strands of Percy’s curls swayed from the breeze they’d made. Ron made a noise of delight, giving Potter a side-hug. Ginny hugged the boy as well, her cheeks going a suspicious shade of pink. 

After that, their father came in, much more gracefully than Potter did. He smiled at the sight of Percy’s siblings surrounding Potter, chatting  animatedly all at once. “Hello Weasleys!” 

“Dad,” Ginny gave him a hug as well. He returned it, giving her hair a ruffle. 

Privately, Percy didn’t know why anyone would have wanted to hug either of them willingly. Potter was dusty and dirty from taking the floo, a thin coat of black coating on his nose. His hair was untidy like always, sticking up on all ends. Their father was slightly better off, with a few smudges here and there. 

“What took you both so long, Arthur?” their mother inquired. “Merlin’s sake, I was ready to send the twins off to check on you.” 

“Not to worry, dear,” their father said tenderly. “There was, err, a small mishap that happened.” Potter noticeably tensed and Percy’s eyebrows furrowed. “But, ah, don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed.” 

“Get what fixed?” His siblings wanted to know. 

“Dad, what’s wrong?’ Ginny asked, fearing the worst. 

“Is it-erm,” Ron didn’t want to say it but they all knew what he meant. Percy had to refrain from rolling his eyes. 

“No, no,” their father said quickly. “Nothing like that.” 

“Then what is it?” the twins looked between both of their parents. 

“You can tell them, Mr. Weasley,” Potter shifted. “I don’t mind. I was going to tell them anyway.” 

“Tell us  _ what _ ?” Ron demanded. 

Their father took in a breath. “Later,” he decided, to their disappointment. 

“But-” Ron and Ginny protested. 

He held up a hand to silence them. “Let’s get Harry settled in first. And no pestering him with questions. That goes for all of you.” He eyed the twins. 

“Yes, dad,” his siblings sighed. 

Their mother tried to ease the uncertainty in the room. “Harry, dear.” Percy observed as the boy was taken into a fierce hug by his mother, where after she held him at arm's length, inquiring about how his summer holidays had been thus far and if he was hungry. 

“Now, Molly.” His father chuckled, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently guiding her back. “Let the boy go. He needs some air.” 

“Oh, Arthur!” His mother’s cheeks tinged with pink but she released the boy nonetheless. “Honestly,” she muttered. 

From where he’d stepped back after giving Potter that hug, Ron rolled his eyes. “ _ Mum _ ,” he whinged. “I’m sure Harry’s fine. Don’t smother him.” 

Their mother swatted him on the back of the head-Potter grinned amusedly. “I am doing no such thing, Ronald Billius Weasley!” Ron cringed at the use of his full name. Then, turning back to Potter, her pleasant smile returned. Percy wanted to scoff. “Dear, you’ve just missed breakfast. Is there anything you wanted? I could whip something right up.” 

“Yes, Harry, Dear,” the twins mocked. “Anything at all?” 

Ginny snorted, feigning a cough when their mother looked over at her. “Bit of a dry throat,” she offered as an explanation that their mother didn’t believe in the slightest. 

“Well, Dear?” their mother had decided that admonishing Ginny wasn’t worth pursuing. “Anything at all?” 

Potter shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing one of his forearms. He wiped away the dirt on his nose, scrunching up his face slightly. “Erm, no. No thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure, Dear? It’s really no trouble,” his mother persisted. 

_ But it’s too much trouble to treat your children fairly without any judgement,  _ Percy thought sourly. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Potter nodded, more assured now. “Really, I’m fine.” 

His mother backed off hesitantly, otherwise patting him on the back and gesturing over to the stairs. “Well, go on. You’ll be staying in Ron’s room, which is hopefully less of a disaster,” she raised her eyebrows at Ron-whom rolled his eyes again, muttering a response. “If it isn’t livable, Harry Dear, just come fetch me.” 

“And watch out for those socks,” the twins called, snickering. 

Potter, bemused, sideways glanced at Ron. “What are they talking about socks for?” 

“Never mind,” Ron grumbled, his ears going red. “It’s nothing.” 

“Alright,” Potter blinked. Then, as they were passing by, he noticed Percy standing there stiffly. “Hello Percy.”

Percy nodded curtly. 

“Good summer?” Potter asked him, his hands going back behind him. 

“It’s been alright,” Percy said coolly. He was going to say as little to the boy as possible, having no wish to fraternize with a known enemy of the ministry. 

“Are you still working at the ministry-Ron, stop it!-?” Potter yanked his arm away from Ron, who was trying to get him to stop talking and go upstairs. 

“Yes,” Percy said, a tad bit suspicious as to where the conversation was leading to. 

“Oh, well, how’s that going?” 

Percy should have called him out right then and there. Potter didn’t  _ really  _ want to know. It was obviously a ploy constructed by Dumbledore to find out any further information that could be of advantage to him. Potter was slyly trying to get it for him, foolishly believing that Percy would be so  _ stupid  _ as to divulge anything. 

“Quite well,” Percy didn’t miss the look exchanged by his parents and his suspicion arose. Were they in on it? It couldn’t be ruled out. Dumbledore did have them eating out of his palm. 

Or, was he being paranoid? 

_ No, _ that voice was back, urgently. 

_ Look at what they’ve done-to you, to the ministry  _

_ They’ll ruin your reputation  _

_ They’ll ruin everything you’ve ever wanted  _

_ Be on your guard  _

“Oh,” Potter was clearly disappointed at the lack of response he’d been hoping for and Percy felt a hint of smug satisfaction swell up within him. “Well, that’s good.” 

“Yes,” Percy said carefully, “Indeed.” 

Potter awkwardly ducked his head, allowing Ron to pull him up the stairs. The boy was murmuring something to Ron, taking one last glance back at Percy before they disappeared and the sound of the door shutting was the last he’d heard of them. 

_ The nerve of him _ , Percy thought indignantly.  _ Thinks he can put one over on me, eh?  _

He had to admit it, try as he might not to, the boy possessed some smarts to him; perhaps nowhere to the equivalent of their friend, the Granger girl, but he had a way of pouncing to get what he wanted without it being all that obvious. 

Percy would have to exhibit caution-keeping his guard up at all times to avoid a slip up. He was going to have to put on a faux natural expression that wasn’t keeping a trained eye on the boy; not subtly watching his every move and staying within hearing distance so as he could keep an ear out for any viable information he might have that would be of any use for the Ministry. His family would be livid if they became aware of his intentions and it would cause an even bigger explosion than the one that he had with his mother the night before. 

But Percy deemed it necessary. Potter was, whether those close to him were willingly to admit it or not, a threat to the entire Ministry, and as a loyal supporter, Percy felt it was his responsibility to jot down any useful that Minister Fudge would benefit from knowing. 

_ But you know Potter  _

_ That is hardly the point  _

_ It is, though. You know he wouldn't deliberately put your family in harm's way  _

_ He has. Multiple times. Potter has no regard for anyone else. He's only interested in being Dumbledore's puppet, and I, for one, will not sit back and watch everything I've ever wanted become destroyed by an insufferable sixteen year old _

  
  


A soft  _ pop  _ jolted Percy from his musings. The twins had apparated away to somewhere. Ever since they passed their apparition test, that was all they’d been doing. Walking seemed dull and was rarely done anymore. Their mother was usually seen yelling at the air, telling them that it was quite unnecessary to be doing it all the time. 

This time, she hadn’t. She was huddled near the kitchen, grasping his father’s hands. They were quietly speaking to one another, meaning that it wasn’t suitable for any of their children at the time. Percy itched to move closer. 

He guessed it had to do with Potter, the reason that kept them from arriving back sooner. 

Just what  _ was  _ it? 

He hadn’t missed the slight glance in his direction that had come from his father when he’d initially spoken of it. That must have meant there was something worth finding out, perhaps viable to the Ministry. 

Percy quite intended to find out. 

“They won’t tell you.” Percy looked over at Ginny, who had her arms folded. She kept a steady eye on him, knowing enough what he wanted. “You know how they are.” 

He fiddled with the front buttons of his shirt, though they needn’t to be touched at all. “I believe I am better suited for the conversation then you are, Ginevra. I am of age.” 

“Believe  _ me,  _ Percy. We’re all aware,” Ginny said coolly and his lip curled. 

“Are you finished?” he asked after a moment. He didn’t wish to be stuck there any longer than need be. “I do have things to attend to.” 

“What? Play servant to the minister?” she retorted. 

“I do no such thing,” he was feeling a bit miffed. “I’ll have you know, it’s highly respectable work.” 

“To  _ who _ , Percy?” she scoffed. 

He stared at his sister, a harsh remark on the very tip of his tongue-but he held back. “I don’t have time for this,” he told her roughly, promptly going back up the stairs with the intention of his returning to his room. 

Quite unfortunately, Ginny trailed after him, her footsteps quick and thudding behind him. He grit his teeth, attempting to shut the door so as she couldn’t get in but she held out to stop it, pushing it back with all of her might. 

“I’m not done talking to you,” she started. 

“Yes, well,” he said, “I am.” 

“What’s your problem with Harry?’ she got straight to the point. 

“I haven’t-” 

“That’s a load of hippogriff dung and you know it!” She hissed. “I heard what you said to him. He’s never done anything to you.” 

_ Except try to ruin my career  _

_ He wants to see you fired  _

_ He hates you like the rest of them do  _

_ Potter is the enemy and that’s all he’ll ever be  _

Percy didn’t care to hear anymore of her defense on Potter’s behalf. He was well aware that his sister held affections for the boy and while he wasn’t certain what Potter thought of Ginny, that was irrelevant. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Ginny was frustrated by his lack of response. “Ever since you started working at the Ministry, you’ve been acting odd.” 

“I’ve acted nothing of the sort.” 

She continued as if he hadn’t said a word, as if what he said didn’t matter and to her, it probably didn’t. “Mum’s worried. Been worried. I know it’s about you because she won’t talk about you, gets really quiet when someone mentions you.” 

_ And you are telling me this, because...?  _

“You’re really upsetting her, Percy,” his sister said quietly. “Dad doesn’t know what to do to help her.” 

_ I suppose I should be surprised  _

_ But I’m not _

_ Incompitent fool  _

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” but he’d barely got the words out before Ginny’s furious whisper cut him off. 

“I want you to reassure Mum that you’re not going dark!  _ Merlin, Percy! _ She really thinks something’s wrong with you.” 

_ Because you refuse to be a doormat any longer  _

_ Perhaps.....perhaps though Ginny has a point  _

_ That is ludicrous  _

_ Perhaps, but it is possible that my mother has a right to be concerned. I am her son, after all  _

_ Her son _ , Percy almost thought he heard a scoff. He was going mad, that had to be it.  _ Her son whom she prefers the least because you aren’t as talented or funny or brave as your brothers and sister. Her son whom she insists she’s proud of but continues to prove the opposite. Her son whom she lets her other children walk all over and humiliate for their own sick pleasure. Tell me, does that sound like a mother that genuinely cares about you?  _

“No,” he murmured. 

It didn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, this is an AU so i know Percy leaves in the 5th book but it's changed to the summer before the 6th book. Percy just tolerated it until now. Also, pay close attention to his thoughts, these will be important later on. Once Percy leaves, the POV will shift to Harry's until we get back to Percy, just a head's up.


	5. Chapter 5

Ginny had been unwilling to leave straight away, bound by her fierce determination to defend Potter’s honor and try to uncover why Percy had been acting so  _ oddly _ . His eye had twitched, upon when she had said that very word. 

_ Odd.  _

He’d heard that all before-as an insult; when his mother tried to act as though she was being kind by regarded him as such. Fellow students who didn’t share his same ambitions and enthusiasm for the thrust of knowledge. 

_ Odd  _

_ Odd  _

**_Odd_ ** __

He was the odd fellow that would spend nearly every waking moment in the library when he had not been in class or off glavanting during his short term relationship with Penelope Clearwater. 

He was the sort of bloke that was never any good at mastering the skill of socializing; etiquette was easy, to know how to address someone or how to act in the presence of a lady-yes, it all made sense. It all could be boiled down to a set of rules and regulations that were to be followed. 

It was a pattern of structure and order, of which Percy clung to. It was a lifeline, he supposed. Without it, without that sense of familiarity to guide him, he would lose. 

And to them, to the people that should have supported him the most, should have been  _ happy  _ for him, it meant nothing. It furthered their thought that he was simply a fool; a misguided, selfish,  _ fool _ . 

Oh, sure, it was fun to laugh at Percy. Utterly amusing for him for every bloody joke to be aimed at  _ him _ . They could say whatever they wanted, could be nasty and spiteful-but it was just an innocent  _ joke _ . They never meant anything by it- 

Bollocks. 

Just once, it would be nice if someone could be proud of  _ him _ for his accomplishments, not some halfhearted attempt or praise that looked like it was cutting at his parents’ throat. Just  _ once  _ he wanted someone to listen to him and have a conversation that didn’t bring up how great someone else was. 

Just  _ once _ his family could show some genuine happiness, without any of his siblings ruining it with a prank or one of them yawning exaggeratedly, asking if he was done talking about it yet. 

The memory still made him sour. 

Egypt; excruciatingly hot, sand that burnt the soles of his feet once when he’d wandered outside without shoes, the sun that swept over them and stayed high in the sky until nightfall. His Head-Boy badge arrived in a crisp envelope with his name written neatly in Professor McGonagall’s handwriting. It was before the twins had locked him in that pyramid; he’d been in a decent mood, brightening upon seeing the letter. 

His mother had been distracted when he broke the news.  _ “That’s wonderful, Dear,” she’d said, putting a hand to her forehead, looking out for the twins to assure herself that they weren’t causing any trouble. “Another Head-Boy in the family! Your father and I are so proud.”  _

His father’s response had been similar. 

Later on at dinner, that night, he announced his news again to the table. Bill had congratulated him. Ginny and Ron shared a look, rolling their eyes and he could almost hear the words that went unsaid:  _ Here we go again.  _

They thought he’d been too harsh with his Prefect duties. Too  _ proud  _ of having grasped what he’d desired for since he was old enough to understand and appreciate it. Bill-he’d had done it, gone on to be a Prefect  _ and  _ Head-Boy. For so long, that was what Percy wanted, to follow in Bill’s very footsteps. 

In hopes that  _ someone  _ would recognize his hard work, someone would make him feel worthy, that it wasn’t all in vain. 

And even despite Ron and Ginny’s less than stellar reaction, he had tried to remain positive, tried to brush it off because he really should have been used to it by now and there was no use of being upset on such a special day. 

Then the twins had to go and ruin it like they always did. 

Percy was overly thrilled, still. He was discussing the list of topics he wanted to have a chat with Professor Dumbledore over once he settled into his routine and his plans for when school was over, only his father and Bill seemed to be listening. He’d been in the middle of saying something when a loud,  _ obnoxious  _ yawn rang through the air. 

Percy had stopped, looking at Fred, who grinned innocently. His brother wanted to know if he was done talking about it yet because he and George had something to show them. 

It was no use to compete with the twins, they would get their own way somehow. Defeated, he sunk back into his chair as both their mother and Bill rounded up on Fred and George. Their mother warned them that they better not have destroyed anything and Bill added that if one thing was a smidgen out of place, it was their bum that would get it. 

So, as Percy fell into the background  _ one again _ , amongst his family that were carrying on, not remembering that  _ he  _ wasn’t finished speaking yet, he’d come to a conclusion. 

It wasn’t worth it. 

It wasn’t worth it to make a fuss or express how  _ tired  _ he was. 

He was always going to come in second place; he wasn’t as cool or smooth, he wasn’t as brave or witty and he didn’t have a famous best mate that managed to get away with whatever he  _ bloody  _ wanted. 

Because he was just boring old Percy Weasley. 

And Percy Weasley wasn’t one of a kind. 

He was a below ordinary bloke that relied on his own self to get by. 

~~ 

His mother’s voice penetrated through his concentration. 

“Percy!” she must have been standing right next to the stirs, looking up. “Come downstairs!” 

Percy’s eyes tore away from  _ A Beginners Guide to The Complicated Field of Politics _ , setting it down with a frustrated sigh. They weren’t going to give him a moment’s peace. He shut the book with an audible  _ thud _ and pushed it underneath his pillow for safe keeping, should the twins come in and raide his room. 

They’d done that numerous times already; whenever he demanded to know why they had deliberately gone into his room when he’d explicitly forbidden them from doing so, it was always the same answer. 

They were  _ looking for something _ . 

Spoken in a tone that conveyed he really ought to have known that, faces contorted in what they tried to express an aura of innocence. 

Well, Percy didn’t buy it. Not for a nanosecond. 

It had come to him needing to defend his own territory. Going straight to their mother with the intention of getting her to be on his side, to punish the twins for invading his privacy was pointless. She never did much more than a flippant  _ don’t bother your brother, you two.  _

He’d grown rather skilled at hiding his most precious items, with the aid of an invisibility charm, too. It was wrong, he knew, for him to practice magic outside of school and back in his second year or so, he’d started using the charm at home. He’d been racked with guilt, nearly scared out of his wits that a letter would come for him any moment after that, despite the logical side of him reminding himself that his family was magical so he could get away with it. 

_ Get away with it.  _ He’d been a Prefect, Head-Boy. He’d been regarded as a model student, given a position of authority simply  _ because  _ he made sure to stay out of trouble, knowing the difference between right and wrong and when to follow the rules, not toss them aside for laughs. 

Yet there he had been, choosing his devious side because he knew he’d get away with it. 

Had he been questioned, had someone wanted to get to the bottom of it, why  _ Percy Weasley  _ of all people would stoop so low as to undermine one of the sacred laws of the wizarding world- 

He would’ve said he had no choice. 

What was he supposed to do, let them take what rightfully belonged to him, without saying a word? Should he have simply overlooked it, to avoid any unnecessary conflict? 

_ No _

_ You shouldn’t have to  _

He was tired, tired of having to accept what he shouldn’t have had to accept. 

_ You’re entitled to your anger  _

_ You shouldn’t have to worry about them touching your things  _

_ They’re the gits  _

_ Not you  _

They were gits. 

They were immature,  _ they  _ were not worth a second thought. 

Not him. 

Percy didn’t want to stay silent anymore for the sake of keeping peace within the Burrow, of which was nonexistent anyway. And by Merlin, he wasn’t going to be pushed down and stomped on anymore. 

“Percy!” His mother was at it again, impatience seeping into her voice. 

He did his best to ignore it, shoving another little voice that was far more rational to the back of his mind that was warning him of the consequences of ignoring his mother. She wouldn’t take very kindly to it-she didn’t take well if anyone dared to stand up to her, least of all her children. In mere seconds, her temper would fly and she would become irate, having no qualms about screeching to him about how  _ he was the older one so he needed to obey _ , and spewing that nonsense about  _ needing to be a good role model.  _

He scowled. The words  _ role model  _ left a bitter taste on his tongue. The reminder of his mother's insistence upon it swirled around in his mind and it only further drugged him down. 

There were certainly discrepancies between him and his siblings, that neither of his parents were willing to admit to. They were unable to accept  _ any  _ sort of accountability on the subject of their parenting at all. Their pride kept them from acknowledging where they had screwed up, where they had allowed his siblings to do as they pleased while it was  _ he  _ who had to tackle all the responsibilities, all of....everything. 

If the twins had snuck off to pull off a prank, Percy should have been paying closer attention to them to stop them. If his siblings didn't finish all of their chores, Percy should have been behind them, coaxing them along. 

For Merlin’s sake, he’d been partly to blame for the twins and Ron sneaking out when they took the enchanted car to bring Potter to the Burrow! He’d been rendered flabbergasted, at the time, when his mother had taken him aside and scolded him for not being attentive enough with them to notice what they were planning to do. 

He wasn’t their  _ parent _ . 

It shouldn’t have been  _ his  _ burden to carry. 

Neither Ron nor the twins made any indication that day that they had planned on doing anything. It was relatively normal so he had nothing to suspect. 

Furthermore, why was she upset with  _ him  _ when she should have been rightfully upset at  _ them _ ? 

_ Because you’re not her favorite  _

_ She loves them more  _

_ She’ll always love them more  _

“PERCY!” She barked. 

A rush of anger surged through him, adrenaline that made him want to throw something. Throw it against the wall and watch it shatter. It’d feel good, watching it. He might feel a certain bit of pleasure. 

Something was wrong; he shouldn’t be thinking like that, shouldn’t be bad-mouthing his mother or disobeying her. It was some sort of inkling coming forth-Merlin, was he dizzy? 

_ No _ , and the voice he sort of heard but not quite so, nearly sounded fiercer. 

Or was it his imagination? 

He might have been going mad. 

_ You’re showing weakness  _

_ They don’t care about you  _

_ You shouldn’t care about them  _

He vaguely registered that his mother was calling his name again-for the fourth time? He wasn’t sure. 

_ She’s going to keep bothering you if you don’t  _

_ She’s so blinded that she doesn’t see how you can’t stand her  _

_ But I don’t- _ No, he did. He very much did. This wasn’t some school boy embarrassment at being kissed in front of everyone on the train platform anymore, this wasn’t embarrassment at being seen out in public where everyone would know he belonged to  _ that  _ family. 

This ran much deeper. 

_ Much  _ deeper. 

_ I can’t stand her _ , the adrenaline was back, pulsing through him like an abrupt burst of energy.  _ I can’t stand my own mother _ . 

And he was alright with that. 

He’d grown resigned to that. 

He was okay with it. 

~~ 

There was no room for him. 

He hadn’t failed to notice how his family was squeezed in at the table, with Potter in one of the chairs that should have gone to Percy. Should have gone to the one of whom  _ belonged  _ in the bloody family; not some insufferable chosen one that was sliding right into his unofficial place as a member of the Weasley family-all the while not so subtly shoving Percy out of his spot. 

And his parents seemed quite content with those turn of events. Neither of them reminded Potter-or any of Percy’s siblings, for that matter-to save him a seat or to make sure that no one ate all the food before he had a chance to have some. 

But he wasn’t bitter about it either. 

He didn’t  _ care _ . 

They could go adopt Potter and make him a real member of the household; if it didn’t interfere with Ginny’s dream of marrying the boy. 

The thought nearly made him feel ill. 

Being related to  _ Potter _ . 

Just what would Minister Fudge have to say about that? 

It made him uneasy, but he banished the thought away. There was no use worrying over it now; his sister and Potter were still children with no plans of getting together in any sort of way. 

For now. 

His focus went back on his family, where they’re huddled around the table and munching on the sandwiches that his mother had fixed for them. Percy’s stomach grumbled and he clenched his muscles to stifle the noise. 

There was still no room for him. 

It took a full minute, perhaps a smidgen longer, for someone to take notice of his presence. They’re absorbed in a moment of togetherness that momentarily took Percy back to a simpler time before he began to get involved in the Ministry, before the wedge came between them that only  _ he  _ was recognizing. 

Back before it was clear that he and his family weren’t on the same side, with the same values and goals in mind. 

Back before  _ Potter  _ hadn’t entered their lives. 

It was like a bruise that was settling in, the pain surfacing rather suddenly, catching him off guard. 

An invisible bruise. 

Potter was laughing at something said before Percy had arrived downstairs, playfully shoving Ron to the side. Ginny was beside herself with giggles, her hand covering her mouth. She was saying something-to the twins? He thought, but wasn’t entirely sure. He wasn’t being attentive, paying little attention to the finer details because he was irrationally captivated by what was going on in front of him. 

His parents were relaxed, more so than they had been lately, especially with the rows that had gone on between them. His father was reading the paper, every so often glancing at his siblings and Potter with fondness, chuckling if someone said something humorous. 

His mother was still handling food, asking Potter  _ if he was sure  _ that he didn’t want another sandwich because there was plenty for him to take so he shouldn’t be shy. With pinked cheeks, Potter politely declined, insisting that he was full already. By the look of her frown, his mother didn’t believe Potter but let the matter rest for now. 

Potter, he noted offhandedly, had cleaned up since arriving. The soot was washed off and his glasses were smudge free now. 

As for his mother, her eyes swept over to the left where Percy was standing, going back to what she was looking at, only to look back to the left again, fixating on Percy. 

“You took your time,” she said with disapproval coloring her tone, giving him a plate with a corned beef sandwich. 

“Yes,” it slipped out before he could control his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny and the twins raise their eyebrows at his daring response to their mother. Percy itched to call them out for that, to point out that they had done  _ worse  _ and ask rhetorically why it was permissible for  _ them  _ but if one little toe of his stepped out of line it was all over. 

He didn’t. 

He kept his mouth shut, accepting the plate and taking a bite of the corner piece. 

It was terribly dry, though he chewed it anyway. 

“Dad,” Ginny said, believing it to be a correct time to ask, “are you going to tell us what happened, yet?” 

And Percy was all ears. 

His father cleared his throat, folding the  _ Daily Prophet  _ up. “Well-” 

“It’s not the dementors again, is it?” Ron piped up, glancing at Harry with concern. 

It was enough that Percy almost rolled his eyes. But he didn’t, he wasn’t going to intentionally cause more conflict over something so juvenile. 

He could vividly recall the dementor incident, where Potter should have rightfully been expelled for his use of underaged magic, in front of a muggle, no less! Any other wizard or witch and they would have been handed a hefty punishment. Any other magical folk would have had to suffer the repercussions from that decision, but no, not Potter. 

Potter was their bloody savior with Dumbledore protecting him! He was allowed to do much as he wanted and no harm would come to him other than a few lost points and a detention. Any other student of Hogwarts didn’t get that same preferential treatment. 

But Potter was different. 

_ Potter’s better  _

_ Potter’s the sun while you’re just a measly speck  _

And thus, he was able to get away with his crime. Minister Fudge had been furious, but as Arabella Figg had testified, providing what most of the court deemed sufficient evidence for Potter’s defense, there was nothing anyone could do to overturn the verdict. 

“No,” Potter denied. “Nothing like that.” 

“Then what is it?” Ginny asked, her voice somewhat loud and impatient by the secrets that were lingering within the air. 

“Ginevra,” the warning from their mother was on the tip of her tongue. Halting in dueling out the food, she pursed her lips, shooting her daughter a look. “Whatever it was, Harry doesn’t have to tell us unless he wishes to.” Her face relaxed, a touch of fondness as she addressed Potter. “You mustn’t let them pressure you, Dear. Whenever you’re ready, that’s fine.” 

Naturally, there were a burst of protests from his siblings-all claiming that they  _ most definitely weren’t pressuring him _ and that  _ they just wanted to know _ . 

There would come a day where their childish curiosity would get them killed. 

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” Potter said amongst the chaos of Percy’s siblings  _ still  _ trying to refute their mother’s belief that they’d been trying to force Potter to speak of it. 

She nodded, satisfied. 

“Is the Ministry trying to expel you, again?” one of the twins wanted to know, deliberately ignoring what their mother  _ just  _ said. 

“I say, Harry,” the other added, “Fudge has it out for you.” 

Percy bristled. 

“Fred! George!” their mother snapped. 

“No,” Potter shook his head-it didn’t escape Percy that he didn’t  _ disagree  _ with the statement about Minister Fudge. “Haven’t said a word to me. Thank Merlin.” 

“That’s because they know Dumbledore’ll lay into them,” Ron said proudly. “Think they’re bloody scared of him.” 

_ That is absurd!  _

Their mother wacked him upside the head. “Language, Ronald!” 

“Yes, yes, Ron,” one of them wagged a finger at him. “Do watch your language.” 

“We have sensitive ears here, you see,” the other gestured toward Potter. 

“We wouldn’t want poor Harrykins to be corrupted.” 

“Bugger off,” Potter snorted. 

The twins gasped rather dramatically. 

“The disrespect we face around here, Fred!” 

_ I could tell you about disrespect  _

_ This isn’t it _

“I’m with you, George. I am just  _ appalled.  _ Appalled, I tell you!” 

“And from the Boy-Who-Lived, no less!” 

“Honestly! What would you fans think, Mr. Potter, if they knew how rude you were?” 

Potter shook his head, a grin on his lips. He was, apparently, amused by their antics. 

Percy couldn’t say the same. 

“That’s enough,” their mother cut in, the light mood dying out now. “Eat your lunch, Dears. We’ve still a bit of cleaning to do. Of course, I don’t mean  _ you,  _ Harry.” 

“Yes, Harry, Dear,” one of the twins said in an overly feminine voice that Percy believed to be reminiscent of their mother’s, “you just prop your feet right up and we’ll get you squared away. I believe there’s even a mint left on your pillow.” 

His siblings and Potter laughed. 

Their father simply smiled while their mother threw her hands up in their air, exasperated. 

_ Honestly, those two _ . Couldn’t be serious to save their lives, could they? That’s another thing that was going to get them killed someday-their inability to push their joking aside, to focus on more important matters. If they’d spent more time on their school work than those absurd pranks, they  _ might  _ have gotten more O.W.L’s. 

The tension that came seemed to dissipate; the table was once again lively. So far, no one but Percy remembered that Potter had yet to inform the family on what exactly occurred and why it had taken him and their father longer than normal to return. 

He was inwardly bursting with an urge to know, of course, but he kept his facial expression impassive and his body still. Working at the Ministry, observing the ways of his co-workers and how they carried themselves had been a valuable lesson. The days of accompanying Minister Fudge to his meetings where he was seated in between the Minister and another important advisor, across from whomever was meeting with him to settle whatever it was that needed to be dealt with were an absolute  _ honor _ . Not many wizards and witches could say they were able to be within the presence of the most powerful wizard in all of Britain. 

But  _ he  _ had. 

_ He  _ had risen above the expectations of his parents, rather poor, indeed. If anything, they had been under the impression that once he had graduated from Hogwarts, he would be inclined to return to teach-History of Magic, Ancient Ruins, or even Transfiguration. It was something he’d considered at one point, early on, first or second year. Back when he was embarrassingly enamored with Dumbledore, adamant about him being the greatest wizard of all time and striving to be just like him. 

Even if teaching did catch his fancy,  _ even if  _ he’d never been hired by the Ministry, he couldn’t go back; not to live in the castle again, surrounded by too many people that would rather believe in a hive mindset, so sure of themselves without the appropriate evidence. 

No, he couldn’t go back.  _ Wouldn’t  _ go back. He’d stick out like a sore thumb, trying to lay low, not let his true feelings be made known. Plus, Percy didn’t think he could stand to see that bloody twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes everyday. 

Besides, he was perfectly happy with his job at the moment. 

As it turned out, to no one’s surprise-except for perhaps their mother for not just shutting up and doing as she had been instructed to do. Percy privately thought it was fairly dimwitted of her to expect such in their family-Ginny brought the subject back around again. 

“You never did tell us what happened.” 

Before another  _ Ginevra!  _ could escape their mother’s mouth, Potter said, “Right Err, nearly forgot.” 

That much was a lie. Percy wasn’t foolish enough to fall for  _ that _ . Out of all the things Potter was, forgetful wasn’t one of them. No, he was covering up something; something that he didn’t want them to know. Or, didn’t want  _ Percy  _ to know. 

_ He’s definitely hiding something  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this wasn't already clear-since this is an AU, that means that when Harry and them were at the ministry at the end of 5th year, no one saw Voldemort but them and Dumbledore. SO they still dont believe he's back.   
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Hopefully I'll get another one out before November but if not happy early Halloween!


	6. Chapter 6

To his sister’s credit, Ginny didn’t believe Potter’s outright lie, eagerly soaking it up like she would have, just like the countless other times he’d witnessed whenever she happened to be in the same room as the boy. 

Rolling her eyes, she snorted. “Oh, that’s bollocks.” 

Almost instantaneously, the rebuke came from their mother’s tongue, sharp and quick with a glare that her daughter pointedly ignored. ““ _ Ginevra! Language! _ ” 

Instead of being properly abashed, Ginny just lowered her gaze onto the table. “Yes, Mum,” she muttered remorselessly, paying no attention whatsoever to the huff their Mother let out. She was focused on Potter, eyeing him, studying him to see if he would crack and admit to whatever in Merlin’s name he was trying to keep them from knowing. 

And Potter was doing his best  _ not  _ to make any eye contact. He’d done it once, then flickered away, to somewhere on the wall. That only served to prove Percy’s earlier point. There was something going on that Potter was trying to keep to himself.

He crossed his arms. 

Lunch was coming to an end. There was a couple halfway eaten sandwiches, one left on one of the twin’s and Potter’s plate, respectively. Ron offered to eat it if they wouldn’t, to which their Mother smacked him over the head, admonishing him and saying that he’d eaten enough already. 

Ron whined. 

Potter grinned. 

The twins laughed. 

It had lessened a bit of the thickening tension in the room. But it still kept Percy at square one. He was nowhere near closer to finding out that secret then he was before he’d come down for lunch. 

However, there was nothing that could be done about it. Not within his own power, anyway. Potter would spill it when he was good and ready-if ever-and that would most likely be to Ron; when it was nightfall and everyone else was tucked in their beds. 

Agitation crept up. 

There were so many bloody secrets in this house! He wanted to bang his head on the countertop.  _ Perhaps someone would notice me, then _ , he thought bitterly. 

Oh, sure, they’d noticed. They’d think he was a nutter. 

And maybe he was. Maybe after all this time, suffering from the endless pranks, the lack of warmth and affection from his own family, how they were so  _ quick  _ to turn on him and not consider how  _ he  _ felt-maybe he had gone nutters and this was only the beginning. 

“Anymore tea, Dear?” His mother asked Potter in a saccharine voice that positively made him want to vomit. 

“No thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Potter responded, flashing her a smile. 

It was simply fascinating, to watch as both of them put on an obvious facade that only he was able to see through. His Mother being the dutiful hostess, the caring motherly figure to anyone else but to her own children-or, rather-excuse him-to  _ most  _ of her children. One being an exception. 

And then there was Potter. Playing the shy, polite teenager that had no motives behind him  _ whatsoever _ . The epitome of innocence and the light side. Honestly, Percy wanted to shake his parents until they saw sense, until the hold that Potter and Dumbledore had on them had worn off. 

It was mad! Following direction from a child and barmy old man. Of course, there was nothing he could have done about that. They would choose to put their faith wherever they pleased, without so much as a drop of care of how they were viewed by the rest of the wizarding world. 

But yes,  _ he  _ was the mad one, here. Believing it was important to represent himself in a way that others would find acceptable as well. His parents’ approval wasn’t going to take him as far as he’d like to go. It wasn’t going to make Minister Fudge see him as having minister potential or that he was deserving of such a title. 

No, he was going to have to make it on his own. It was the sort of action that he knew they would never approve of-family was fiercely important to them and they wouldn’t hesitate to cut themselves off from the rest of the world and its perks so long as they had their family alongside of them. When he’d been younger, shamefully naive, Percy admired that. He believed it. It was all he’d ever known before he stopped out to Hogwarts and into the real world, outside the walls of the Burrow. It had seemed like the right thing to do. It made  _ sense _ for the longest time. 

Until it suddenly didn’t. 

Until his sheltered view of the world and how it worked was shattered. Things weren’t as black and white as they were made out to be. Rather out of nowhere, ideals that were once scorned, now weren’t so wrong  _ if  _ one could carry it properly. 

He didn’t dare bring any of this to his parents or his siblings. He expected a conniption if he did. A blow up where  _ he  _ would be the wrong, where  _ he  _ needed to get rid of those thoughts immediately; where  _ he  _ couldn’t believe anything that was different from them and be his own bloody person. 

Merlin forbid. 

And so he couldn’t help the bitterness. He used to feel guilty, mentally chaste himself because that was his  _ family _ . The very people he was supposed to love and cherish and it was supposed to be mutual. 

Supposed to. 

He  _ should  _ have felt loved and cherished. There shouldn’t have been any arising doubt about it.  _ They  _ didn’t feel the same way, that was for sure. Ron, Ginny, the twins, the whole lot of them-none of them would ever be familiar with the inner turmoil of emotions he had to deal with. Because they  _ were  _ loved dearly, they  _ were  _ cherished to the best possible ability. They weren’t the odd one of the bunch and even if they were, they wouldn’t have been the  _ bad  _ sort that Percy was. 

Percy shrugged out of his musings. He wasn’t going to get  _ anywhere  _ if he was stuck thinking about things that hardly mattered at the moment. What’s done was done and he couldn’t do a thing about it, now. Might as well get over it, instead of dwelling. 

_ That’s what they would tell you  _

He considered that thought. 

_ Your Mum would tell you to get over it, that it’s not important  _

_ Why do you let them dictate you?  _

_ Why do you let them control you even though you’re of age?  _

_ You’re so spineless  _

_ So weak  _

_ That’s not Ministry material, is it?  _

_ Do you Minister Fudge will want you to be Minister if you can’t even break away from what your family says?  _

_ Your family doesn’t get to control everything  _

_ No matter what they think  _

_ They can’t  _

Potter was still at the table, running a hand through his hair with a tired sigh. Incidentally, he was messing it up even more, some of the pieces stuck up in the back and Percy grimaced.  _ Honestly _ . Percy had a number of things that he found fault with the boy, his lack of pride in his appearance was certainly one of them. 

It wasn’t charming. It wasn’t becoming and it was nowhere near a satisfied level of care that Percy privately believed to be necessary for a sixteen year old. He’d dealt with untamable hair as well and it was possible to keep it at bay, if one tried, that is and not let it be so wild. Untidy hair might have looked acceptable for someone just getting off of a broom or a child who hadn’t yet learned to properly manage it, but Potter was nearly an adult in the eyes of the wizarding law.  _ And  _ on top of that, though Percy acknowledged it begrudgingly, he was a public figure. That, in itself, should have gotten through to him, to get him to understand that people out there were observing him; and, quite unfortunately, some people would follow his less than stellar example. 

Well, Untidy hair wouldn’t be tolerated by the Ministry, he could guarantee that. If Potter ever managed to lend a job there-Merlin help them all-he wouldn’t be allowed to just waltz in without taking the time to neaten and flatten it out. There were rules made for a reason! Arriving with a bedhead showed not only a disregard for any personal hygiene, but a disregard for representing the Ministry as a whole. Ministry employees were to carry themselves in a dignified manner, even when not working, as one could never be sure who was watching them. 

“You saw something, didn’t you?” Ginny’s voice broke through the silence and Percy’s roaring thoughts that wouldn’t cease on their own. “That’s what you won’t tell us, isn’t it?” 

Potter looked distinctly uncomfortable by the abrupt, direct question. Percy reckoned his sister must have been correct or, at least, close to it; for the boy glanced on over at their father out of the corner of his eye. 

_ Aha _ , Percy thought triumphantly. They were onto something now. He just had to find out what it was that Potter saw so he could report it back to Minister Fudge, if need be. Providing that his mother didn’t shoo them all away, with the excuse that they were  _ too young  _ to be hearing this. Ron, Ginny and the twins might have been so, but he was not; and he wouldn’t be bossed around like that anymore. He was going to stand his ground, the right to be where he pleased. If he was working at the Ministry, he should have been able to be in any room in his own house. 

“Erm, well,” Potter stumbled over his words. He was obviously caught off guard by Ginny catching on and now had to come up with a reasonable response. Percy had known exactly what he was doing, being careful not to divulge the  _ secret  _ he’d been keeping since his arrival. He’d been doing it on purpose, playing coy while trying to rile everyone up-trying to get sympathy, to get the family reared up on his behalf. 

Clever, really. 

But not clever enough. 

“Arthur?” His mother said sharply and his father placed the paper down. “What’s he talking about? What did he see?” she’d spoken quite fast, quite fretfully. She seemed to be checking Potter over again, eyes darting around for any injuries to taint his skin that she might have missed in her initial greeting. 

“Now, now,” his father began, carefully, “You mustn’t worry, Molly, Dear.” 

“Don’t you ‘Molly, Dear’, me, Arthur Weasley,” his mother retorted, wagging a finger at him as if he were one of her children and not her husband. Spineless fool. “Now, you best tell me what’s going on, right now. Your children and I were worried and I believe we deserve an explanation  _ this instant _ .” 

Her tone had taken on a higher octave by the end of it. His father straightened up, clearing his throat. “Erm, yes. Quite right, Molly, Dear. Harry, you don’t-?” He looked to the boy, as a way of silently asking for permission to continue. 

Potter shook his head. “Go on, Mr. Weasley. I told you, I don’t mind.” He paused, momentarily.  “I saw Death Eaters before Mr. Weasley arrived.” 

The faces, except for that of his father’s paled. 

Percy  _ honestly  _ had to refrain from making a fatal mistake of scoffing or rolling his eyes at the absurdity. Death Eaters,  _ right _ . In a muggle neighborhood while You-Know-Who was gone. It hardly made any sense.  _ But _ , but, he had to give off the impression that he believed the boy; so he contorted his features into one of surprise. Not that it was necessary, anyway. No one was looking at Percy. They were all looking at Potter. So bloody worried for Potter. So astounded and gullible for Potter. 

“Death Eaters?” His mother gasped, holding a hand over her heart, appearing a bit faint. “My word! Arthur, you must alert this to Albus at once and-” 

His father cut through her incoming spiel, grabbing ahold of her hands and giving it a squeeze. “It’s already done, Dear. I’m afraid, that’s what took us so long. I needed to inform Albus and Remus before we came back.” 

Silence loomed over the kitchen. No one really wanted to speak. The only noise that seemed to reverberate off the walls was the  _ clink  _ of his mother’s teacup hitting the table after she’d taken a hearty gulp. 

“Where were they?” Ginny asked, quietly. ‘You must have been home, weren’t you? Otherwise...” 

But she needn’t finish. They’d all gathered where she was going with that thought. If that had been the case, if it was even true in the first place, then Potter would’ve used magic and Percy would have to go through watching Minister Fudge become understandable irate at seeing Potter get off with no sort of consequences whatsoever. 

“Outside the house,” Potter told her. 

“Oh, good,” his mother had regained some of her color to her face. “Then you were safe.” 

“Not really,” Ron muttered. “Bit hard to be safe when you’ve got a maniac after you, isn’t it?” 

His mother either pretended not to have heard or she heard and she agreed. Not bothering to correct Ron on the fact that there  _ had  _ been a maniac after Potter. She was allowing silly rumors to fill his head  _ then  _ wondered why he wasn’t performing as well in school as he should have been like he, Bill and Charlie. She’d had high hopes that their influence or Percy’s influence, as Bill and Charlie were out of the country, would encourage Ron to be his best. 

It didn’t. It didn’t and Percy blamed the twins, partly for that happening. Ron and Ginny were always amused by their brothers’ antics and had taken on their laid back attitude in regards to life. If it wasn’t for them, things might have been different. Sure, sure, Ron had made prefect and that was a major achievement in itself, considering all the trouble he’d gotten into since he first formed a friendship with Potter. 

A highly suspicious occurrence in itself. Had it been any other student sliding through their school years and breaking endless amounts of rules, they wouldn’t have been picked. It would have been futile to advocate for them, too. The Prefects (and Heads) were supposed to represent Hogwarts by their outstanding grades, marvelous behavior and a genuine regard for the school. 

It simply didn’t  _ fit  _ Ron. His grades were fairly average, his lack of motivation painfully evident; his behavior well of the mark from where it should have been and Percy didn’t think for one second that his brother had any remote interest in making the school any better-seeing as he’d heard him plenty of times  _ complaining  _ about this and that when he, himself, was still attending. 

Was that, too, another way for Dumbledore to strengthen his hold on the family? Was that yet another tactic for manipulation that would go unnoticed? Percy’s mind reeled and he let that thought sink in. 

With that being said, Ron, then, tried to uplift the mood. Albeit, it was poorly done. “Bet your uncle was furious, wasn’t he?” 

“Oh, he wasn’t home,” Potter responded and the joke fell through. 

“Oh,” Ron sat back in his chair. 

“Yeah, er, he and Aunt Petunia went out.” 

“What about your cousin?” The twins shared a smirk. Percy knew what they were thinking-he remembered the incident when his siblings and father went to go fetch Potter before they were to go to the Quidditch World Cup and had  _ dropped  _ one of their candies so Potter’s muggle cousin would take it. He had, so he heard, and if memory served him correctly, the muggle’s tongue had become engorged. 

_ Such a disregard for our reputation! Hmph! Have they no shame?  _

_ They don’t  _

_ Because they don’t care  _

_ And they never will  _

“He was out as well,” Potter shrugged, without much emotion coloring his tone. As if he didn’t possibly care and Percy suspected that might have been the case. 

_ Selfish sod  _

“So you were home alone!” Their mother had deduced, clearly shaken up by the thought of  _ poor, precious Potter  _ being all alone. 

_ Pathetic!  _

_ She cares more about a child that isn’t hers then her own children  _

No one saw Percy’s hand clenched into fists. 

Clench. Unclench. 

“Er, yes,” Potter said hesitantly, slowly drawing out the syllables. Then, he added quickly, “But it’s alright, Mrs. Weasley. I’m fine, really.” 

His father’s eyes shot over to where Potter was sitting in a flash, he looked as though he were itching to say something contributing to the conversation-perhaps a contradiction. Ultimately, he didn’t and his eyes wandered away from their intended target. 

_ What on earth was that?  _

_ He knows something!  _

_ He must  _

_ Or am I overthinking it?  _

_ Perhaps I am...  _

_ It could have meant nothing  _

_ Stop it _ , the voice was back, a sense of ire that was involuntary surging through Percy’s veins. 

_ Stop it _ , he almost mouthed those exact words. 

He blinked, his hand going up to touch his head. He was feeling odd. Did anyone else notice? No. Their attention was directed toward Potter; no one gave him a second glance 

Of course they wouldn’t. 

Why would they? 

They wouldn’t stop to think about him, boring old Percy. Perfect Prefect Percy that wasn’t  _ worth  _ their time. 

Admittedly,  _ that  _ made his stomach twist in that way it did at the painful reminder. But, no matter, he had to push it aside like he always did. 

“It most certainly isn’t alright, young man!” their mother bristled at Potter’s attempt at being nonchalant over the matter. Downright scandalous, he’d say. “You could have died! You could have been taken!” 

“But I wasn’t,” Potter pointed out, adamant on getting a word in edgewise; forcing a smile that never reached his eyes. “I didn’t go after him.” 

“I should hope not!” their mother huffed, giving Potter a withering look that was more likely to be given to the twins after one of their students. It was the most he’d seen his mother stray away from her warming demeanor when it came to the boy. 

“It would have been entirely irresponsible to do so!” 

One of the twins shrugged, unbothered. “S’not like Harry can’t handle his own, Mum.” 

Their mother gawped. “ _ George Fabian Weasley!”  _

“Oh, come on, Mum. You know it’s true,”  _ George _ -if their mother was able to correctly tell the difference, in this case, she might have-shrugged again. He didn’t mind the verbal reprimand and he nudged Potter playfully, winking like a loon. “They don’t call him the Boy Who Lived for nothin’!” 

Potter grimaced. 

_ Just for show!  _

“Still,” their mother wasn’t placated. Her hands were fidgety, as they often were when she was worrying and in need of something to do with them. “It isn’t his place. He’s just a boy. He has no business trying to take down Death Eaters.” 

“Molly,” their father interjected calmly, “now, Dear-” 

“No, Arthur. I’m serious!” their mother snapped. 

“I understand that, Dear,” their father said. 

“Do you?” Something flashed in her eyes. 

It became quiet; eerily so for the Burrow, of which had never, in its number of years being occupied by his family, been silent for more than a split second. 

They all felt it, the  _ thickness  _ that infested the air. 

Even Potter. 

“Yes, I do, Molly,” their father said quietly. “Now, I understand that you want Harry to be safe-I, as well-but you must understand that Harry’s got things he must face, whether we want him to or not.” 

It was Potter’s turn to speak. He sat there, gripping the arms of his chair. “Mrs. Weasley,” he couldn’t even look at her. “I really appreciate you caring for me, believe me, I do. But Voldemort-” they all flinched. Percy couldn’t even disguise his. While he was still unconvinced of his supposed return, old habits die hard. “Is going to come after me regardless. He doesn’t care that I’m not of age yet.” 

“He’s right, Mum,” Ron defended Potter with unwavering loyalty. “We can’t just be around and do nothing!” 

“You most certainly can!” their mother’s nostrils flared. “Dumbledore will handle it. He’s got plenty of aurors to help. You boys are still in school. You needn’t worry about such things.” 

Ron mumbled; it was somewhat vulgar, a slur of words that he wouldn’t have said louder, for their mother to hear it fully. 

“Arthur! Back me up,” their mother glared. Usually, that would have made their father hastily agree to whatever she’d said, without thinking twice. Now, he was taking his time, avoiding her incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you’re alright with this?” 

“No, I’m not,” their father replied. Ron and Potter’s shoulders drooped. “But the boys are right. You-Know-Who will stop at nothing until he knows that Harry’s dead. He’s going to face him eventually and it’ll do no one any good to keep him in the dark.” 

Their mother busied herself by tidying up the kitchen, deliberately taking her time on replying to what had been said. Finally, she faced them again. “He’s just a boy,” she said with an air of desperation, of someone who had said that particular line before. 

“A boy that has no choice but to accept his predestined fate,” their father said softly. 

~~ 

Not many more words were exchanged after that. Their mother’s mood soured, leaving her on the warpath and snapping at her children for the littlest of offenses. That did not extend to Potter; even with that bit of standing up to her, he was still within her good graces. It shouldn’t, it was terribly juvenile but Percy couldn’t stop the flow of jealousy that he was experiencing. 

The family and Potter eventually separate to different ends of the house, occupying the time with any means necessary. For Percy, that meant going back to his room where he could document when he’d heard over lunch, regarding the  _ supposed- _ because anything involving Potter wasn’t guaranteed to be true-Death Eater appearance in his muggle neighborhood. 

It was to his misfortune that he hadn’t received quite as much information as he would have rather to; such a delicate subject couldn’t be relentlessly probed until the answers he sought came springing out. Even as disillusioned as his parents were, they would know something was amiss if, out of the blue, he asked too many questions in relation to it-especially Potter. 

So, with his mind wandering, he went up the stairs with the intention of going to his room, when he heard voices floating out of the slim crack in Ron’s door. It wasn’t shut all the way, but enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell who was out there. 

Listening. 

Curiosity prickled, an urge to stay bubbled. He shouldn’t, he tried to reason with himself to see sense. It wasn’t  _ right _ . His feet stopped working, planting themselves in that spot. It was as if he lost control of his own body, at war with himself. It wasn’t okay-he  _ shouldn’t _ . 

_ You didn’t say that when you listened in on your parents  _

A strange sensation came over him. He blinked-once, twice, three,  _ four  _ times. 

_ A bit of a hypocrite, aren’t you?  _

_ It’s only bad if you think it is, right?  _

_ I-  _

_ They want to keep secrets from you, secrets you deserve to know  _

_ Broker for the information you deserve!  _

A hurried peek over his shoulder, the hallway was clear. His mother was doing burying herself in the cleaning, after that bit of a row she’d had with their father, his father out in the shed to finagle with his muggle machinery he had a tendency to sneak in so their mother wouldn’t see it and complain; the twins out to Merlin knows where, quite honestly, he didn’t care so long as it wasn’t there. And as for Ginny, much as she would like to be in the company of Potter, swooning at him merely breathing, she did have a couple homework assignments for Transfiguration to get done before the start of the school year. There was still plenty of time, but for reasons unknown, she’d decided to forgo her usual procrastination. 

Perhaps she, too, had the potential to rise above the typical Weasley standard. But now wasn’t the time for pondering such things. 

“......Do you even know what they were doing there?” Ron’s voice conveyed his disbelief. 

“No,” Potter said. “It's strange. I haven’t felt anything from Voldemort for weeks and suddenly I have two Death Eaters on my relative’s lawn.” 

“Maybe he’s trying to trick you?” Ron suggested. “Trying to get you to relax before he attacks.” 

Percy rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe,” Potter considered. “But it just doesn’t make any sense. They didn’t even do anything. Just looked around and left.” 

“Maybe they can’t,” Ron said. “Didn’t you say you have to go back to your relative’s for a reason?” 

“Yeah. They’re supposed to protect me.” 

The two boys snorted. 

“Alright, well, then, that’s why. Though, I can’t really imagine your uncle protecting you at all.” 

“Nor can I,” Potter said with amusement. “He’d sooner throw me out so I don’t corrupt his precious Dudders.” 

Again, there was laughter. It carried on for a minute or two, leaving them wheezing a bit at the end. Percy patiently waited for the right sort of information to come spewing out for him to seize. 

“Merlin’s beard, Harry,” Ron gasped, still chuckling, “I almost feel sorry for your cousin.” 

“And not for yourself,  _ Ronnie _ ?” 

Ron made a sound of despair. “Oh, shut it! I  _ told  _ Mum not to call me that.” 

“I didn’t hear your Mum call you that.” 

“Then who-” 

“Fred and George.” 

A groan. “I hate it when they do that. I’m not six years old anymore. You’re lucky, your name isn’t embarrassing.” 

“I’m sure it could be if you tried.” Some faux-empathy. A pitiful attempt at playing the overly nice best mate. Potter didn’t sound remotely convincing. Ron would have to be an idiot to fall for it. 

Percy felt a hint of remorse for insulting his brother; but the feeling vanished as quickly as it appeared. 

_ If he’s acting like an idiot, then so it be  _

He zoned back in, their conversation took another turn. Now it wasn’t about the supposed Death Eater sighting or Potter’s relatives or embarrassing nicknames; it was about  _ him _ . 

“Ron,” Potter said, unsure. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Course.” 

“It’s about Percy.” 

A two second pause. “Whaddya asking ‘bout him for?” 

“I dunno, he just seems...different. I guess.” 

Percy stiffened. What on earth was the boy talking about? Was Potter catching onto him? 

“Different?” Ron echoed. “Different how?” 

“I dunno,” Potter probably shrugged at the question. He was predictable in that regard. “It’s hard to explain,” he admitted. “But I can just tell.” 

“Weird,” Ron said. 

“Yeah. Well, you’re his brother; haven’t you noticed anything odd about him, lately?” 

That would have been a miracle from Merlin, himself. Whatever didn’t hold Ron’s interest was tossed to the side with no further thought and it was no secret to the Weasley household what Ron thought of him. 

Boring. Stuffy. Pompous. 

Percy scowled. As if Ron would have noticed if there was something wrong with him. He could have been dying in front of him and he  _ still  _ would have been painfully oblivious. 

“I dunno, mate,” Ron was apologetic. Then, he added, “Percy’s always been a bit off. Even Mum and Dad think so.” 

_ Even Mum and Dad think so  _

His own God forsaken parents thought something was wrong with him! To add insult to the injury, Percy could willingly bet that Ron was telling Potter with a grin on his face. It  _ amused _ him that Percy was treated like some huge joke within the Burrow. 

“It’s just...I dunno-is Percy angry with me?” 

“You?” Ron said in surprise, “Why would he be angry at you?” 

“I dunno. But he didn’t look very happy when I was talking to him,” Potter said. 

“Who cares? He got into a row with Fred, George and Mum this morning. S’probably it.” 

“Really?” Potter asked, with great interest. “What about?” 

_ Of course he’s interested  _

_ Even though it’s most definitely none of his business whatsoever  _

Ron paused. “Well, bit of everything, really. Fred and George brought up Penelope Clearwater-that’s Percy’s ex girlfriend, you remember her?” 

“Oh,” Potter said. “Yeah. Didn’t know they broke up.” 

“Me either ‘till George mentioned it. Apparently  _ she  _ dumped him.” 

Like gossiping girls, those two were! Percy held back the inexplicable urge to burst right into the room  _ at that very moment _ . 

“Oh,” Potter repeated. 

“Yeah. Then Mum got mad when he refused to eat and laid into him when he snapped at the twins. Blimey, Harry, you should’ve seen it; Percy never talks back to Mum or Dad. But he told Mum that Fred and George never take any responsibility because she doesn’t make them.” 

“ _ What _ ?” Potter couldn’t believe it. “That’s ridiculous.” 

“Right?” Ron agreed. “Honestly. They’re a bit annoying sometimes but Percy overreacts to everything. Don’t really know how he’s related to us. It’s like he’s adopted and we just don’t know it.” 

_ He’d like that, wouldn’t he? _ Percy thought, viciously. 

Of course, he would. They all would, matter of fact! Then they wouldn’t feel so  _ humiliated  _ being in the same family as Perfect Prefect Pomous Percy. 

He spun on his heels, storming to his room. 


	7. Chapter 7

Nearly a week and a half had passed by since Potter’s-in Percy’s opinion-unwelcomed arrival. 

Oh, everyone was just  _ thrilled  _ as can be now that he was there. Everyone seemed to forget all about Percy’s presence and the arguments which had transpired between him and his family; for what did they need to remember them for? Surely, they weren’t going to sour their brains with fighting words, not the valid points he’d made, which had been blown off soon as they left his mouth. Oh, no, they would continue to live in a state of denial, under the delusion that they were in the right and he was wrong, that he simply needed to recognize that and give a sincere heartwarming apology. 

Bollocks. 

It was all bollocks. 

His parents were supposed to have sat down with him for a little chat, nearly a week and a half go. His mother had stressed the importance of it, yet all of her attention had immediately zeroed in on Potter the second he stepped out of the fireplace. Percy had been patient; figuring that once the boy had gotten settled in, conversation about the supposed Death Eater sightings were touched on and stomachs full from dinner, then they would be ready. 

But it never came. 

The sun went high up in the sky until it came dipping over the horizon, casting an orange and yellow shadow over the Burrow. Percy stayed in the confinements of his bedroom in between meals, easily shielding himself from the others, up to the time when he had to leave for work. As he usually did, per the request of his mother, he informed them of where he’d be going and  _ swore  _ he heard a muffled snort and a sigh. 

They didn’t respect him and they didn’t respect his work. Oh, but if the bloody Boy-Who-Lived had an epiphany and realized that the Ministry was somewhere he was supposed to be, they would be showering him with praise! 

In a way, now that he had time to mull over the matter, it was a good thing that, ultimately, they’d forgotten all about it and left him alone. Honestly, he didn’t think he could keep a rein in his temper if they did what they always did and nitpicked this and _that_ and why couldn’t he be more like Bill and do _this_ like Charlie! 

When were they going to realize that Percy Weasley was his own bloody person? 

__ 

_ Knock _ . 

Percy was midway through a bundle of documents when a set of knuckles hit the wooden door. “Yes?” he called, pushing the pile aside for the time being, neatening up his area so as it couldn’t be seen as sloppy. That was another trait the Minister despised; sloppiness. “Who is it?” 

“Oh, just me, Mr. Weasley,” came the voice of Minister Fudge. He opened the door; Percy rose to his feet out of respect. 

“Hello, Minister Fudge,” Percy bowed his head slightly. “Good day, I hope?” 

“Oh, yes, yes,” Minister Fudge nodded. He gazed upon Percy’s desk. “I do hope I’m not interrupting.” 

“Of course not. Please, do take a seat.” 

“Thank you,” the Minister did just that, folding his hands over his stomach. “Well, I’ve got to be honest with you, Mr. Weasley.” 

It was his grave tone that sent Percy’s mind whirling. “What is it, Minister Fudge?” he was almost afraid to ask. “If it is not wrong of me to ask, have I done something wrong? If I have, I assure you that I hadn’t meant to do so and will do whatever needs to be done in order to right this wrong.” 

The words came out in a rush towards the end, he didn’t want to look up at his boss for fear of seeing the inevitable disappointment, the resignation, the regret. 

“Mr. Weasley, do calm down,” Minister Fudge instructed, calmly. It was good, wasn’t it? That he was calm? Percy’s tension slowly ebbed away, if minutely. “Mr. Weasley, you are one of my most valuable employees. I assure you I have no interests in ridding you of your position.” 

He’d known. It might have been his nervousness; sometimes he was an open book to those who cared to pay attention. 

Percy cleared his throat. “Ah, thank you, Minister. I appreciate the kind words.” 

“Of course, of course. Although, I did have something I felt you deserved to be aware of,” the tone of the Minister turned to displeasure. Percy could only imagine what he had to say. 

“And what would that be, Minister?” 

“I was in my office earlier today when your father came to see me.” 

It was as if he’d been doused in icy water.

_ No _

His father-no, he...he wouldn’t dare, would he? This was work, this was the Ministry, this wasn’t the Burrow where he was boring old Percy that they pretended to understand. Here he was the junior secretary, a  _ valuable employee  _ as Minister Fudge said. Was his father so adamant on ruining everything he’d worked for? Everything that, up until this point, had been a result of his dreams and desires?  _ Everything  _ that he never thought would be a reality? 

He’d never loathed the man more than right now. 

“He did, did he?” Percy kept his anger in check and out of his voice. Forced calmness that he most definitely did not feel. “If I may ask, what exactly did he have to say?” 

Minister Fudge let out a small sigh. “Well, Mr. Weasley, it was regarding you.” 

_ He’s done it now...  _

_ Minister Fudge just said my job isn’t in danger _

_ What a fool you are! It matters not. Even if he doesn’t sack you, your reputation is surely tainted. He will see you as the boy who couldn’t stand on his own two feet, that needed his father to help him. You will never be promoted now! How can he trust someone to run the entire wizarding world when one’s father can’t resist from talking about him with one’s boss! Who knows what that blithering idiot blabbed to him about  _

“Regarding what, exactly?” Percy dreaded to know. His mind was already imagining all sorts of awful scenarios, each one worse than the last. 

“It seems he’s worried about you,” Minister Fudge explained, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He chuckled, finding it all quite funny. “He thinks I’m overworking you and requested that you get some time off to spend with your family.” 

_ Bloody-  _

Percy could have very well exploded right there.  _ How dare  _ his father go to his boss like that. Had the man no shame? He was a grown adult, yet apparently his parents failed to see  _ and  _ realize it, foolishly thinking they could just  _ demand  _ such a request from the Minister himself, like that. 

The embarrassment was great. Percy’s face  _ flamed _ . The only thing that was stopping him from marching out of his office and apparating directly to the Burrow  _ this instant  _ was Minister Fudge. He  _ would not  _ stoop to their level; he  _ would not be _ so unprofessional. No, he would prove himself worthy, that he was far more above them. 

He was going to show everyone how different he was. 

“I see,” was the only suitable response Percy came up with. He covered his mouth, fingers rubbing at his cheek, then he took off his glasses to wipe at them-even though they weren’t dirty in the slightest, as he’d cleaned them not even twenty minutes prior. “Minister, I must apologize to you. I assure you that I haven’t a thing to do with it. My parents’ behavior about my job has been rather poor, I regret to say.” 

“Really?” Minister Fudge’s eyebrows rose, he spoke with interest. “And here I was under the impression that Arthur Weasley couldn’t wait for one of his sons to join the team. Why, he used to brag about you during your time at Hogwarts.” 

_ That was before I decided I wouldn’t just accept the words of the man he idolized blindly  _

“Initially. He was not very pleased when I declined his invitation to join his department.” 

“Ah,” the Minister chuckled again. “Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Bit of a waste of space, I think. But don’t go around saying that.” He sent the red head a conspiratorial wink. 

Percy nodded, relieved that someone else was sharing his sentiments and wouldn’t go tattle to his father for it. “Don’t worry, Minister, I won’t. Actually, I agree with you.” 

“Oh? Do you, now?” 

“Yes,” Percy inhaled, relaxing now that the discussion had taken a less sharper turn. All seemed well now that things weren’t in jeopardy. “I’ve held the opinion for some time now that if my father truly tried, he would be far more successful. Clearly if there are only two employees in a department, that should be a red flag that said department isn’t very useful.” 

Oh, there he’d done it.  _ Running his mouth  _ with the Minister present! What  _ was  _ he thinking? Everything he’d been keeping up, bottled inside of him just came  _ spilling  _ out. He wouldn’t have dreamed of doing it and now he tensed. 

However, Minister Fudge wasn’t bothered by his admission. It was a bit of a confidence boost; when he was sure he wouldn’t be chastised for showing disrespect to a section of the Ministry (even if Minister Fudge had done so, himself), he continued. 

“I must admit, I used to think differently. My parents led to believe it was an important job and the only reason my father wasn’t treated very fairly was due to prejudice.” 

For so long, he’d been blind. Just took his father’s word for it without thinking to question it; that was what he was taught. Growing up, his father would come home, settle down at the table with a hot cup of tea that was waiting for him and tiredly discuss the day’s events to his wife. Percy knew; he’d eavesdropped plenty of times before, some not on purpose. 

He’d just wanted to know. It’d intrigued him. But his mother was certain that a boy his age shouldn’t be overhearing any of it, making sure to shoo any of them away before she’d wave his father on as a signal to convey it was acceptable to start now. 

If only he hadn’t been so obtuse and chose to educate himself sooner than waste time as he had been doing; keeping a grip on his as to not voice his true thoughts for they would surely only bring conflict. 

Minister Fudge let out a laugh. “Oh, my! What a load of bollocks. That man,” he shook his head. “I daresay, some people will choose to believe what they want to believe, even if the facts prove otherwise. It’s rather unfortunate, don’t you think, Mr. Weasley, that we cannot choose our family?.” 

“Quite right, Minister,” Percy agreed. 

“I must confess, I was close to firing the man. Who does he think he is, coming into  _ my  _ office-unannounced, I might add-and thinking he is entitled to saying what he did?” Minister Fudge tapped his fingers on the desk in annoyance. “I don’t know how you can stand him, Weasley. He must be far worse at home.” 

“You would be right.” 

_ Worse  _ was an understatement. 

“Weasley.” 

“Yes, Minister?” 

Minister Fudge hesitated, stroking at his chin. “This isn’t my place to say so, forgive me if I’m overstepping myself, but you want to move up within this establishment, don’t you?” 

_ Is he saying-  _

“Yes,” he said, a little too hurriedly. Eagerly, if this was him offering Percy  _ another  _ promotion. “Yes, of course.” 

“Good to hear, son. With that in mind, I do have some advice for you,” Minister Fudge said. 

“I’d be honored to hear it, Sir.” 

“Now I want you to know that I have nothing against your family, of course-even if I think your father is a tad mad. No, I think they're lovely people, but I’m afraid they’re holding you back, Mr. Weasley.” 

_ What?  _

_ He’s right, you know  _

_ I don’t understand  _

_ They’re hindering you, don’t you see it!  _

_ But-  _

Percy felt like he’d been zapped-oh, he jerked. His bottle of ink fell over, spilling all on his hand. The mess vanished with a flick of his wrist. 

“Pardon me, Minister, but I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he frowned. 

“What is there to possibly understand!” Minister Fudge burst out. 

Percy jerked. He’d never so much as heard Minister Fudge’s voice  _ ever  _ raise like that before. His mouth clamped shut, unsure of how to proceed. 

The older man emitted an embarrassed cough, straightening up his clothing out of needing to do something with his hands and not necessity. “I apologize, Mr. Weasley,” he was calmer now. “That was out of line.” He exhaled. “What I mean to say is...you value your position at the Ministry, don’t you?” 

“Oh, of course,” Percy went on to say. “It’s an honor to be working alongside you, Minister. I couldn’t ask for anything better.” 

_ That’s because you actually value your job  _

_ Imagine if the twins heard you  _

_ They’d never let you live it down  _

_ They’d laugh at you  _

_ Mock you  _

_ Tell all their friends and exaggerate  _

_ Because Merlin forbid you actually care about something that wasn’t quidditch or anything leisure  _

_ They just don’t understand  _

_ None of them understand  _

_ None of them  _ **_want_ ** _ to understand  _

_ It’s just you  _

_ You against them  _

_ But you already know that, don’t you?  _

“Which is  _ why  _ I would think you would do a better job at upholding yourself better,” Minister Fudge said. “That  _ includes whom _ you associate with. Now, Mr. Weasley, as I’ve already said, this is nothing, shall we say, personal against your family, but you’ve got to understand where I’m coming from. Your family has continually displayed an absolute disregard for not only their image, but your own.” 

Percy sat, motionless. 

“Are your parents supportive, Mr. Weasley?” 

“Err, pardon, Minister?” 

“Are they supportive?” The Minister repeated. Then, he clarified. “Of your job? I recall you saying that their behavior regarding this job has been rather poor and that your father was initially disappointed that you did not go to work in his department, but I would think that regardless to where you went, they would be supportive and encouraging to their own son.” 

It was unintentional, perhaps without a thought to what his words could do, but Minister Fudge  _ picked  _ at a wound, of which had been repeatedly picked and ripped off before, leaving it open to the dirty, grimy air until another-a little less durable-scab came over it. 

It’d been a sore subject with Percy, the fact that his parents hadn’t been so.... _ open  _ to the idea of his job. They’d bucked, exchanging those-those  _ looks _ that drove him mad. Of uncertainty, worry,  _ regret _ . Where had the congratulations gone? Not even a simple  _ well done  _ or clap on the back. The atmosphere had been different, so abruptly; Percy, with hopefulness that was like a thin thread that was just about to break, stood rooted in his spot. Waiting for a response or  _ something _ . 

They had to say something. 

Didn’t they? 

They’d heartily congratulated Bill when he revealed to everyone that he’d gotten a job in Egypt as a curse breaker; it was the same for Charlie when he told them about his job. All smiles and laughter and a bit of tearing up from their mother because they were going to be so far away for the first time. 

But the difference was striking: they’d been  _ genuinely  _ thrilled for his older brothers. No one made a fuss. No one had gotten tired of hearing about it, only to try and change the subject to a more preferred topic-now that he thought about it, Fred and George had asked Charlie endless questions pertaining to his new job. It’d been so  _ exciting  _ to them that their brother was going to work with dragons. 

But they hadn’t been that way with Percy, oh,  _ no _ . 

It was one thing to expect them to react with similar fascination-of which Percy knew as a matter-of-fact that neither of them held for his job, or rather, job at the time. He didn’t; he knew better. But once,  _ just once  _ it would have been nice that they held a sliver of politeness, an ounce of the respect that they had for Bill and Charlie. 

He wasn’t asking for much. 

_ No _ . Instead, he had to deal with two rambunctious  _ children  _ who dismissed anything that didn’t pertain to their interest. Didn’t think twice about how that would possibly hurt someone’s feelings. He was just  _ Perfect, Prefect  _ Percy. He had no feelings. And even if he did, that wouldn’t stop them from stomping on them, then turning around to innocently face him and go on to make the whole thing appear like it was  _ his  _ fault, somehow. 

Minister Fudge took Percy’s silence as a negative. “Well,” he said, sighing heavily, “I’m sorry you have to deal with that, Mr. Weasley. It must not be easy.” 

_ It isn’t _

And, as though he had no control of his own mouth, those were the words that came flying out. 

“I can assume that your relationship with your parents has greatly suffered since your starting point, yes?” 

More than anyone realized. 

Many, especially from those on Dumbledore and Potter’s side, falsely believed his family to be tight-knit, with him and all his siblings so  _ fiercely  _ loved. That was a bunch of hippogriff dung. Sure, out of parental obligation his parents loved him, but they loved the surface him. They didn’t love every part of him, from some sort of unconditional love that was supposed to come with having children. 

They loved him when he was doing everything that they wanted him to do, go in the direction that they wanted him to go, believe in the things that he  _ should have  _ believed. 

They didn’t like him so much when he was questioning them, pointing out contradictions and blatant lies they either hadn’t thought about or chose to ignore it. 

They liked him being a good, little submissive child; ready to crack out the whip and beat him down verbally until he resisted and went back to doing what he was told. 

“I’m afraid so, Minister,” he responded without a sense of remorse. He was resigned to it. Why should he worry and fret and spend an unnecessary amount of time thinking about them when they couldn’t-- _ wouldn’t _ \--do the same? Besides, the Minister was right, of course. He couldn’t let them drag him down anymore. If he was going to rise above the exceptionally low standard that his parents had for the family, then that also meant losing as well as gaining. “It’s been a bit rocky. Especially since Potter has been rather insistent of You-Know-Who’s supposed return.” 

He couldn’t quite hold back the disdain that was coming through his voice. 

“I know what you mean, Mr. Weasley,” Minister Fudge nodded. “I’ve heard it myself from Arthur. He’s been going around saying that.” Percy closed his eyes, wishing nothing more than to fall through the floor. “It’s gotten the departments in an uproar. Some believe him. Some don’t. Some are requesting time off and others are growing more irritable as the days pass on. It’s hardly acceptable for us to be in such disarray.” 

“Minister, if I may apologize on behalf of my father-” 

“There is no need, Weasley,” Minister Fudge held up a hand. “I understand you two are very separate people with your own views. You need not worry. Nothing will come of you because of your father’s behavior.” 

Percy could only sigh in relief. Then, he remembered the conversation from the Burrow, the one that had to practically be ripped out of Potter because he’d been so bloody secretive. 

“Oh, Minister Fudge, do you recall me telling you that Potter would most likely come by my parents’ house this summer?” 

“Yes,” Minister Fudge said, interestedly. “And what of it, Mr. Weasley? I take it the boy has arrived.” 

“Yes. Nearly two weeks. I wanted to mention something that was discussed the day he’d come.” 

“Well, go on, spill it,” Minister Fudge encouraged. 

Percy didn’t hesitate. “Do you know anything about the allegations of Death Eater sightings in Little Winging? Potter told my family that he saw two of them while he was home alone. Naturally, they believed him and are in quite a tizzy because of it.” 

Minister Fudge stroked his chin. “Well, now that you’ve mentioned it, I do recall that being tossed around. Of course, I thought it was all hogwash, myself.” 

“Exactly,” Percy said. “And in a muggle neighborhood, no less. The boy is talking lies, again and any listening ear is only encouraging him at this point.” 

“Right you are, Mr. Weasley. Oh, that Arthur. He’s just worsening things.”

“I wish it were only my father, Minister; my whole family believes him.” 

Minister Fudge rose to his feet, shaking his head. He was at the door when he looked over his shoulder at Percy. “I want you to know, Mr. Weasley, that while that may be, you will always have a family within the Ministry. Good day, Mr. Weasley.” 

“You as well, Minister,” Percy bid him, formally. 

The door closed softly and he leaned back into his chair. 

Minister Fudge had brought up several good points, ones he hadn’t pondered on as much as he should have. And that stunt his father pulled-Percy was still boiling with rage on the inside. If he  _ dared  _ bring it up at the Burrow, his family-his mother especially-would fly into a fit. 

_ He’s worried about you _ , they would say. 

_ Don’t question your father _ , his mother would snap, wagging a finger at him. 

_ Oh, sure  _

_ Don’t question your ‘father’  _

_ Because he’s always right, isn’t he?  _

_ Always has your best interest at heart  _

_ That’s why he always berates you  _

_ Only you  _

_ That’s why he makes  _ **_you_ ** _ feel bad for having goals that exceed his own _

_ It isn’t about you  _

_ He’s insecure  _

_ He can’t stand that you’re doing better than him  _

_ So, he wants you to feel bad about it  _

Percy was tired of it. The childish antics of his father. The disrespect from everyone. The remarks. The laughter directed toward him because he was  _ different _ and that, according to them, was a bad thing. 

_ If you’re tired of it, why don’t you do something about it?  _

He should. He should finally stand up to them and say something. Right now, it was burning within him; a tiny spark that ignited and was up in flames. He’d tried to be okay, tried to put it out. Shove it to the back and pretend that he could deal with it. 

But he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Percy yanked his cloak off the cloak rack, nearly tipping it from the sheer force. He put it on, plastering on a pleasant enough expression, cooling himself so as he wouldn’t attract any attention on his way out that would raise any questions. 

He made his way to the apparition point, determination rushing through his veins, his face hardening as the Burrow-with a few lights left on and silence in the front yard-came into view amidst the darkness. 

He walked with a purpose, head held high, not to be beaten down for the umpteenth time by the very people who were supposed to care for him. 

Just before he grabbed the doorknob, Percy inhaled. 

If there was one thing for sure that he knew, it was that he was done pretending. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys are enjoying this!! 
> 
> I'll try to get another out before next year (wow, we're really at this point, aren't we?) but if I don't: Merry (early) Christmas!!


	8. Chapter 8

He couldn’t get over it. 

The conversation he had with Minister Fudge regarding his father’s _embarrassing_ behavior was still replaying in his mind and it only infuriated him more. What right, _what right_ did his father believe he had to do that? None, that was what. _Absolutely none_. How difficult was it to comprehend that he was a grown adult? If he wished to stay as long as he felt was necessary in his office, then so be it! They shouldn’t have felt it was their decision to make for him.

_It’ll stay that way so long as you allow it_

_It’s your own fault, too_

_You’ve never said a word while they’ve berated and degraded you for_ **_everything_ **

_You’re wrong for wanting good grades_

_You’re wrong for caring about their education as well_

_You’re wrong or wanting to get a good, stable job_

_You’re wrong for being critical about Dumbledore and not just worshipping him like he’s the reincarnation of Merlin, himself_

_You’re wrong for not taking the word of a boy who hasn’t experienced the real world yet_

_It’s always you_

_You’re the one that’s always wrong_

_Not them_

And Percy found, as he walked into the place that he’d once considered his home, that had been full of laughter, joy, _love_ ; that was once a place where he could count on for comfort when everything from the outside just seemed so _bleak_ , that he couldn’t do it anymore. 

He couldn’t continue to come back time and time again, where he was disrespected _over and over_ with no consequence for anyone else. Where _his_ opinions didn’t matter nor were they taken into consideration. Where _his_ views were shot down. Where _he_ wasn’t even thought of as family-he remembered Ron’s words they were burning a hole within him. 

_“Don’t really know how he’s related to us._

_It’s like he’s adopted and we just don’t know it.”_

That’s what they wanted, eh? They _wished_ he was gone. Wished that they could know once and for all if he was truly not a Weasley. A proven mistake that would explain everything, why he was so different from them and how he just didn’t _fit in_. 

He didn’t fit in at school, not with how _cool_ and _wicked_ his brothers had been, with Percy being the opposite in so many ways. And then came the rest of his siblings and he just floated to the background, only to be seen when he needed to perform his Prefect and Head-Boy duties. Even then, the students resented him for enforcing the rules. His siblings resented him because he wasn’t _cool_ or _wicked_ like Bill or Charlie; he didn’t _know how to have fun_. 

He was a killjoy. A stick in the mud. He was everything they were against. 

He’d even felt like he didn’t even fit in at the Ministry when he’d first started. Most who worked in the various, neighboring departments knew him as Arthur Weasley’s son. His hair and his freckles gave away his identity right away-of which, at one point, _he’d_ been indignant about. It’d been difficult, _mightily_ so, to prove to them all that he wasn’t like the rest of his family. That was what they saw; they expected him to share their values, thinking of him to be distrustful of Minister Fudge while deifying Dumbledore and putting him on the pedestal that most seemed to do. His family sure did; Dumbledore was never wrong, could never _be_ wrong, in fact. It wasn’t easy to separate himself from the reputation his family had gotten themselves in so people could believe that he was different and wasn’t there to cause any trouble. 

Everywhere he went, things seemed to be against him. People saw him as the enemy or at the very least, a nuisance they simply had to put up with for the time being. They didn’t _care_ how it felt to him to be treated that way. He doubt they even stopped to ponder it. 

Percy’s jaw was beginning to ache-he’d been clenching it through the entire walk it took him to approach the front door. Every last one of his muscles were tense, as if preparing for a spar. He had to shake off the feeling of lightheadedness, not only from his hasty travel, but for the _reason_ why he’d left so abruptly in the first place. 

He wore an impassive expression, he’d been doing that a lot lately. His features were neither sharp or soft; neither a friendly invite, nor was it a warning to stay away. And when he came through the door, various noises causing his eyes to advert to the right where everyone was, he just stood there. 

Watching them. 

His family and Potter were sitting around the kitchen table like they had that day at lunch. Again, he saw it; them looking so much like a _real family_. How they’d all been before Potter entered their lives, a memory that was slowly fading away to nothingness. It became harder for Percy to recall, if it was real or not at all. 

They were laughing; a mixture of chuckles and giggles and hysteria. The sounds all merged together in Percy’s ears. They were _happy_ , that much was evident. Over something that he had no idea of. They teased each other, with pokes and playful shoves. Ginny and George had both reached for the last piece of chicken at the same time, so instead of trying to be polite like adults, they were trying to shove their forks into it, making them _clink_ . Ron, Fred and Potter were cheering for their intended winner, giving pointers on _this_ and _that_. 

Their mother wasn’t having it, as she wasn’t as amused by it like they were. She did her best to regain some of the order, instructing that they were to stop that nonsense _this instant_. She should have known better than that, how they were prone to doing the opposite of whatever she told them to do. Neither Ginny or George listened as predicted. 

Not one of them noticed his presence for all of a minute or two. It was just _unbelievable_ . _Ridiculous_ . _Unacceptable_ . Far too long than it should have been for a bloody _parent_ to acknowledge their own child. Then again, had he ever really been their child? Perhaps. Perhaps by a technicality, but nothing beyond that. It’d long been since he’d felt like he was-truly. Not that it even mattered anymore. Now he was okay with it; he was willing to deny it, deny is place in the Weasley name, deny that he ever thought he knew those people. Deny everything he’d come. Deny it all. 

And they just wouldn’t _understand_ . It wouldn’t click with them where he was coming from. They wouldn’t try to get it, that was a fact. He knew it. _Known_ it. Bringing it up would be a mistake; he imagined that by surfacing it-the _reason_ -they would act hilariously dumbfounded. That he’d indeed gotten so worked up over _that_. They were always doing it, minimizing his problems as if what they dealt with was far greater and Percy merely had to cope with menial situations. 

They’d act as though Percy had sidewiped them with it, all while wholeheartedly believing that they were in the right and he was in the wrong as _usual_ . It was a permanent spot for him, one that he was _long_ used to being in. Much as his family insisted they upheld values such as _honesty_ and _integrity_ , they were also far too proud at times, unwilling to admit at being wrong, or to accept any other point of view besides their own. 

Oh, yes, he understood it well. 

He was just about to make himself known, to get this over with and to let out the reason why he’d come home anyhow. But, then, he didn’t have to. 

It was like the flip of those things that he could recall Professor Burbage teaching his class in Muggle Studies-switches. Yes, like the flip of a switch. It was instantaneous. One moment they were laughing and filled to the brime with _glee_ and _joy_ and the next; the atmosphere had chilled noticeably, moods were somber and one of the twins had mumbled something under his breath. He was just lucky that Percy hadn’t been able to make out what it was, or the outcome wouldn’t have been pleasant. 

_See? That just shows how much they hate you_

_They were having a good time before you showed up_

“Percy, you’re home early,” his father noted with a touch of happiness and surprise. 

_As if you don’t know why_

_You selfish, old tosser_

His mother rose to her feet when he strode fully into the kitchen, keeping a distance between them. His eyes were still very much focused on his father like a bird scoping out its prey; vigilant, sharp. “Do sit down, Percy, Dear. I’ll heat you up some left overs.” She gestured over to an empty chair that was off to the side. Yes, that was where they wanted him, off to the side by himself where he wouldn’t be bothering anyone. Specifically, _Poor Precious Potter_. 

“Percy?” she stopped what she was doing to glance at him when he didn’t say anything, when he didn’t move. He just stood there with that _look_ on his face. “Is there anything the matter-” 

“I can’t believe you,” it took every once of his self-control not to _scream_. 

His father finally looked over in his direction. “Pardon?” 

Percy’s jaw was clenched again. He halfway shrugged his shoulder, shaking his head, unable to fully articulate what he was feeling. “I really can’t believe you.” 

“Did you have a bad day, Percy?” his father said carefully, completely misinterpreting. 

Percy could only stare in disbelief. 

_A bad day?_

Instead of taking the matter seriously and owning up to what he’d done, his father was attempting to make it all seem like his anger was a result of a _bad day_? 

Everything just bubbled all at once and Percy saw _red_. 

“A bad day?” he repeated rhetorically. “A bad _day?_ Is that all you can come up with?” 

“What’s wrong with you, Weatherby?” Fred snorted from his spot. “Fudge not let you drool on his shoes again?” 

He barely refrained from growling at his brother. 

“Watch your tone, young man,” his mother warned, but there was something else to it; uncertainty. He wasn’t prone to doing this, to acting out. 

“What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” His father inquired calmly. 

“As if you don’t _know_ ,” Percy sneered. “I heard all about what you did earlier today!” 

His mother’s head immediately looked to his father, blinking. His father pretended to have great interest in a spot on the table. “What did you do, Dear?” 

“Erm, well-” 

Before anything else could continue, his mother began ushering his siblings and Potter upstairs with a direct point of her finger. “Out,” she ordered. “Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, I want you all upstairs this instant!” 

“Aw, Mum,” Ron and Ginny complained. 

“ _No buts_ ! Upstairs _now_!” 

Ron, Ginny and Potter left, but with great reluctance. Ginny got beside Ron and was whispering furiously into his ear. Percy imagined that all three of them were going to be listening at the top of the stairs and not in their rooms like their mother wanted them to be. 

Fred and George hadn’t moved. Their mother repeated her words but they stood firm. 

“We’re of age,” they insisted. 

His mother looked like she wanted to argue but ultimately gave up. “Now Percy,” she turned around to face him, “what are you talking about? What did your father do?” 

“Asking for time off on _my_ behalf! I nearly died of _shame_ when Minister Fudge informed me!” 

“Only nearly?” George said with feign disappointment. 

Percy deliberately ignored him. 

“What makes you think that you have _any_ right to control my life?” 

“Now hold on a minute,” his father took in a deep breath. Whether that was to suppress his temper or to stall so he could figure out what to say, that was unknown. “No one is trying to control you or your life.” 

_Liar!_

“It’s been far too long since you’ve taken a day off,” his father continued, decidedly. “You’re working nonstop all the time. It can’t be good for you. Your mother and I were rightly concerned.” 

_Concerned_

_Concerned because his son was trying to find his own path in life instead of mindlessly spending his days playing with muggle trinkets_

_Oh, yes, what a right to be concerned_

“Tell me, Weatherby,” Fred interrupted, slyly. “What did Dear Old Fudge do after that?” 

“Was he mad?”

“Is he making you scrub toilets?” 

“Did he fire you?” George asked, a little _too_ eager for the answer to be affirmative.

“Nah,” Fred disagreed with his twin. “I bet he demoted him.” Then, he looked to Percy with growing interest. “Is it true? Did he?” 

Percy fixed his younger brother with a heated glare. Naturally, of course, when he needed to talk about something serious, they _always_ had to derail it.

The twins interpreted that as a yes. They weren’t the only ones. “So he _did_ fire you,” Fred grinned. “And here I thought Fudge adored you.” The rest of his sentence, the _for some reason_ , was said under his breath where no one else but Potter was supposed to hear him. However, Percy _had_ caught it. Loud and clear. 

His father looked beside himself. But that was merely a charade. He wasn’t shocked or upset in the slightest. Percy wasn’t going to fall for that, fall for any of his games. Not now. Not anymore.

_He’s probably happy_

_That’s what he wished would happen_

_He’s just got to play dumb so you don’t suspect anything_

_Look at him, he looks like he wants to jump for joy_

“No!” Percy barked. 

But the twins didn’t believe him. “Oh, come off it, Perce,” Fred said with a grin. 

“Yeah, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Percy, did Fudge really demote you?” his father asked him seriously. 

“No, but you wished he did, don’t you?” Percy said nastily. 

His father sputtered. “What? Of course not. That’s preposterous, that is!” 

“Is it?” Percy challenged his father with a pointed look. 

“Absolutely! I’ve had my suspicions about Fudge, you know. Since he’s started working there. He’s never seemed quite right.”

_Right, and you would know, wouldn’t you?_

“Minister Fudge is _fine_. It’s you I’ve wandered about,” Percy spat.

His father looked like he’d been slapped.

His siblings were torn between disbelief and disgust. They were glaring at Percy, as if he’d suddenly revealed to be a Slytherin all along. 

_That’s what they think of you_

_A sheep in wolf’s clothing_

_And maybe you are_

As for his mother, she was obviously taken aback, but composed herself. “Why don’t we all sit down and calm ourselves,” his mother interjected in that very voice he despised the most. It was patronizing; she was talking down to him as if he were merely a child that didn’t know any better. She was clearly on his father’s side. She’d made her distaste for his preference for his job over much else known. “Now, Percy, sit down and I’ll make us all a cup of tea....” 

“Why can you not simply leave me alone!” Percy’s voice rose above his mother’s. 

“You’re my son,” his father said with uncharacteristic firmness. “And I understand that you like your job, that’s fine, but there’s a time and a place for working as there is for family and you seem to have confused the two.” 

_What would you know about working, hmm?_

_You spend your day playing with your toys instead of providing for your family_

_Your obsessions matter more to you than anything else_

“I’ve done nothing of the sort.” His eye twitched when he heard snorts coming from his siblings. 

“Percy,” his father sighed. “You’ve all but pushed us aside since you’ve started working for Fudge. Don’t you see that?” He advanced toward Percy, desperation on his face. “We are your family, Surely, you know, that we’ll be there for you more than a job will. More than Fudge will-” 

“Oh, must you spew more unnecessary hatred!” Percy threw his hands up into the air. “ _Minister_ Fudge has done nothing to warrant your negative attitude. He’s been brilliantly handling things while Dumbledore goes further off his rocker into this utter _delusion_ of You-Know-Who’s supposed return!” 

“Dear,” his mother intervened. “Where on earth is this nonsense coming from? Harry saw him, you know.” 

“Oh, come _on_ ! Surely, you’re so daft to take the word of a _child_ over the word of our own Minister!” 

“The same one that’s a bumbling idiot, right?” Fred shot back. “Everyone knows Fudge doesn’t know what he’s doing. I can’t-I can’t _believe_ you’re defending him, Percy! What’s he ever done for you?” 

_Listened to me_

_Believed in me_

_Never talked down to me because he didn’t agree_

_“It’s like he’s adopted and we just don’t know it yet.”_

_“Oh, are you a Prefect, Percy? You should have said something, we had no idea.”_

_“Humongous bighead.”_

_“Pompous prat.”_

_“You’re acting like a prick, more than usual.”_

“More than this family has, that is for sure,” Percy said stiffly. 

The silence hung over the family heavily, thickly. 

No one had found the appropriate words to say; no one knew quite sure how to react at first. They were all taken aback. Even the twins didn’t say anything nonsensical, but instead of relishing in the quiet, Percy was in a standoff with his parents. 

“How can you even say that?” his father’s voice was low. Questioning. Hurt. “We’ve done everything for you. We’ve given you everything that you would’ve needed-” 

“Oh, _bollocks_ ,” Percy hissed. “Tell me, Father, when was that? In between the time you spent playing with your _toys_ instead of working to feed and cloth your family? How many times have one of us gone without getting new supplies, hmm? How many times did we have to reuse a uniform or wear hand-me-down clothes because you couldn’t afford new ones?” 

“Now wait just a moment-” 

“But I suppose it’s fine, isn’t it?” Percy cut in, wryly. “So long as _you’re_ happy, then we should be as well, yes? It hardly matters if we’ve not enough money for our _education_ . But so long as Arthur Weasley is _perfectly content_ with his job, then why improve? You certainly don’t seem to care.” 

“How can you say that?” his mother gasped with a hand pressed to her chest. “Your father works hard for his money.” 

“Is that what you tell yourself, Mother?” he snorted. “I hardly think that playing with trinkets is a respectable profession.” 

“It’s more respectable than being Fudge’s lap dog,” Fred muttered. 

Neither of his parents even _bothered_ to scold his brother for that. 

_That’s because agree_

_They don’t respect you_

_They think horrible things about you_

_They’re probably ashamed that you’re their son_

“Trinkets?” His father’s face shoned with mild offense. “Is that what you think?” 

“I do,” Percy said harshly. “It seems Minister Fudge was right after all.” 

“Percy, why are you defending this man?” his father demanded. “Are you really that foolish?” 

_Foolish_

_Don’t you see!_

_That’s what they think of you_

_Just foolish_

“ _Foolish_?” Percy heaved a deep breath in order to gain some self-control back. “That’s what you think, hmm? I’m being foolish for not blindly believing what you do?” 

“Believing what we do isn’t the problem,” his father was frowning in disapproval. “It’s your attitude and how you’ve come to...to... _worship_ this man.” 

He continued. “I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but Fudge, he-” 

“He _what_? I know very well what you think of him. I’m also aware of Dumbledore’s motives.” 

“Motives?” His father blinked, thoroughly clueless. _Typical._ “What motives?” 

“To overthrow the Ministry!” Percy didn’t buy his dumb act for one second. He paced back and forth, arms moving around to emphasize his frustration. Finally, he stopped, staring at his father with a humorless expression. “I’m not stupid, you know.” 

“You’re doing a good impression of it,” Fred snapped. “What’s the matter with you? Dumbledore doesn’t want to be Minister!” 

Percy scoffed. 

“Shows how much you know.” 

_Both_ the twins reared up like they were going to really give Percy what was on their mind. 

His mother covered her mouth with her hand, looking so lost. “Where is all this coming from?” she asked soberly, _tearfully_ . His father pulled her into a side hug to comfort her. “Where--what.... _why_ are you saying this, Percy? I just...I don’t understand.” 

“I’ve grown,” he said pointedly, spitting out the words. “I’ve realized the truth. More than I can say for the rest of you.” He took in their looks, a mixture of shock and anger. 

“How can you even say that?” his father demanded to know; there was a vein in his forehead that was pulsing, that was visible. He was clearly struggling to keep his voice at bay. “We’re your _family_ . Fudge doesn’t care about you. He’s _using you_ , son. Don’t you understand?” Percy couldn’t look anymore. It was truly mind-boggling just how far they were willing to go in their delusion. 

His father made to grab his shoulders, but Percy jerked away. He didn’t see it, but his father’s eyes filled with hurt and when he backed away, he cleared his throat. As for Percy, he scoffed yet again at the idea his father was trying to push. 

“You’ve never _once_ treated me like a real member of this family.” 

“That’s not true,” his mother argued weakly. It was apparent that his spiel was getting to her. “We’ve always been there for you.” 

“Where were you when Fred and George took my badge?” he demanded, striking on them like a deadly serpent. “Where were you when they locked me in the pyramid or mocked me for just about everything? Where you when everyone else made fun of me?” He continued before either of his parents had the chance to answer. “Oh, _that’s_ right. You were elsewhere. Too busy fawning over the beloved Boy-Who-Lived to give a bloody care about your own children!” 

He was breathing heavily by now. The shaking, it was noticeable. So was his fury. 

“That isn’t-” 

“ _Will you not let me speak!_ ” That effectively shut down their father. “I’m sick of it. All of it. Your blatant favoritism and disregard for any actual parenting!” 

His mother and father flinched. 

“You never once cared about how _I_ felt when Fred or George bothered me. You cared never cared how _they_ made me feel when every time I said a word, every _bloody_ time my presence was in the room, they made me feel like I wasn’t wanted. And what did you do? Nothing, of course,” Percy scoffed. “And when I finally get a job that I _love_ , what do you do? You treat it like it’s nothing! You’ve never supported me in what I’ve dreamed of doing!” 

“We’ve always supported you, Dear,” his mother said strongly. “You know we love you-” _She’s lying! She wants you to feel bad. She wants you to feel guilty. Don’t let her!_

“Love me enough to make me feel guilty for doing what I love?” he said sardonically. 

His mother swallowed, her eyes were blinking quite rapidly as if she were trying to suppress tears. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Fred and George were looking at Percy like they didn’t even him anymore. 

_They wished they didn’t._

_They wished you weren’t their brother._

“Yeah. Stop talking to Mum like that.” 

“I’ll talk to whoever I bloody want to _how_ I bloody want to!” Percy barked. 

“What’s gotten into you?” 

“ _Me_? Oh, you have some nerve-” 

“Boys!” their father thundered. It effectively drowned out their bickering, rendering them quiet. Their father stood up to his feet, glancing between them both. “Now, Fred, George, there’s no shouting in the house. And you,” he turned to Percy. “I don’t know what’s going on with you or what happened today-” _Liar!_ “But you’ve _no right_ to take it out on any of us. Least of all your mother. Now, you’ll apologize to her and I don’t want to hear another word.” 

It was rare that their father became serious, much less _angry_ at them. That was their mother’s territory. It was well known between the Weasley siblings that if one of them managed to upset their father, then they’d better run. 

He imagined that the twins must have thought it was funny, to see their father actually _scold_ him. 

_That’s because it’s you_

_Because it’s always just a joke when it involves Perfect Prefect Percy_

“No.” 

One could’ve heard a pin drop. His siblings were astounded by his raw disobedience. His father didn’t know what to make of it, struggling to put together words for a moment or two. 

“What did you just say?” His mother asked in an eerily calm voice. She was giving him a chance to fix it, to get back into line like the obedient _child_ she thought of him as. 

And he nearly did it. He almost faltered. Almost gave them the satisfaction of hurryingly backtracking to fix what he’d just done. But he wouldn’t do that. Somewhere within him, a spark that was ignited, roared itself to life and he was given a feeling of powerfulness that he’d never felt before. It brought out his bravery, and he straightened up his posture, looking his mother in the eye. 

“I said no.” 

Now he’d _really_ done it. Thrown himself over the metaphorical cliff without a safety net to land on. No one in the room had expected that response from him--he even surprised himself with his boldness. The heads of his siblings went from him to his parents and back to him, anticipating on a blow out soon enough.

His father finally found his words, after all he could do was stare at Percy like he’d just found out that his son wasn’t who he thought he was. 

_And that’s true, isn’t it?_

_You aren’t who he believed you were_

_You aren’t who any of them believed you were_

_And that’s a good thing_

_You’ll be better off that way_

_Just imagine how brilliant you’ll be without them dragging you down_

“Percy,” the words with said with the same level of tranquility, a massive contrast to how he’d _just_ been booming at them. “Apologize to your mother and go upstairs, please.” 

He’d thought they were down now. He just assumed that Percy would obey like always and be on his way. Well, they had another thing coming. 

“No,” Percy said simply and he watched in fascination as his parents just _froze_. 

“Excuse me?” His mother started to say but was promptly cut off by his father. 

“Son, I’m not asking you again. You live under our roof and will abide by our rules. Now apologize to your mother or else.” 

_He’s giving you an ultimatum_

_He wants you to beg and plead for forgiveness_

_Don’t do it_

“Then perhaps I shouldn’t live here.” 

“If that’s how you fell then by all means,” his father’s hand swept in the direction of the door. His expression was cold, matching his son’s. 

“Oh, Arthur, you can’t possibly-Now Percy...” 

With that, Percy turned on his heel and walked out of the place that he’d once considered his childhood home for the last time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, I've started back up so updates will be a bit slower. 
> 
> This was one of the hardest chapters to write. I know oftentimes that arguments can come across as cheesy really quickly and while this isn't exactly what I'd hoped for, I hope that you guys enjoy it anyway!

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, they're all at the Burrow and Percy lives there (momentarily). Like I said, it's Au


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